Hiatian Hell
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! The death of a loved one lads to unspeakable horror.
1. Chapter One

Frank Hardy, an eighteen year old, six foot one male, grinned down at the sleeping form of his year younger, inch shorter, brother, Joe. Frank reached down and and took hold of the quilt which lay just above Joe's bare feet and covered him to his neck. His grin grew wider as he pulled the quilt off of the sleeping youth.  
  
The early morning chill sent an immediate shiver to Joe's system and his deep blue eyes flew open. "Give it back!" Joe demanded, reaching for the quilt in Frank's hands.  
  
"Uh-uh," Frank replied, shaking his head and causing a lock of brown hair to fall over one eye as he stepped out of Joe's reach. "Our plane leaves in six hours and we have a long trip to the airport," Frank stated. "Get up and get ready. Dad wants us to leave in less than three hours."  
  
"Three hours!" Joe repeated, pushing his touseled blond hair out of his eyes so he could glare at his brother. "I can sleep at least another hour."  
  
"Don't you want to go for a last walk around the place?" Frank asked, his brown eyes twinkling because he already knew the answer.  
  
"An hour's sleep versus a walk in sandy woods in a place with no entertainment, no traffic laws, no other tourists, and no one who can speak English except our hosts," Joe debated, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. "Hard decision but, well, set the clock," Joe ended, sitting up far enough to snatch back his quilt.  
  
Joe lay back down and curled up, covering himself from head to foot with his quilt. Frank shook his head, set the alarm for his brother and left the room. He exited the house through the kitchen, hearing the morning stirrings of their hosts as they prepared for the day.  
  
Outside, Frank inhaled deeply of the fresh morning air. He understood why Joe had disliked the location their father had chosen for their annual family vacation. It was a remote small village, hours away from the town where they had arrived. The people here spoke only Haitian Creole, so communication was all but impossible for Joe. Frank, who had taken two years of French in high school, could make out some of the words, but not enough to hold a conversation.  
  
There was no public transport and driving anywhere was a major risk as there were no traffic laws. But then, as Joe had pointed out when they had arrived, what did you expect from a place where a driver's license was given to anyone who could afford one?  
  
Frank knew why his father had accepted the invitation of Dr. Duvalier, an old college friend, to stay at his plantation for two weeks. His father, a former member of the NYPD and currently the most sought after private investigator in the world, had been working almost non-stop for the past year. Even Frank and Joe, detectives in their own right, had been unable to take a vacation for the past year without getting involved in another case.  
  
Here, so far removed from civilization, all the Hardys could relax with out fear of being drawn into a new investigation. The past two weeks had been quiet and peaceful. Even the drumming which had kept the boys awake their first night at the plantation had become common place and was no longer an interupption to the tranquillity.  
  
Frank decided to stroll down to where the sandy terrain gave way to rocky incline. The island, for the most part, was a pitiful sight. Soil erosion was evident everywhere and the once forrested island was close to being a desert. But the Duvalier plantation was still flush with vegetation.  
  
Frank smiled, his thoughts on a certain blond-headed, green-eyed girl as he made his way along the path. For the past two years Frank had been dating seventeen year old Callie Shaw. He was looking forward to seeing her again. If only she could have come along this vacation would have been perfect. Unlike Joe, who enjoyed going to parties, movies and sporting events, Frank preferred the quiet life. A roaring fire, a good book or a friend to talk to and he was perfectly happy. He didn't enjoy being alone but he never had cared for large crowds.  
  
Frank stood still and watched as the sun began to rise above the small mountain in front of him. He was going to miss this place. If only he could stay for a few more weeks, he would be more than happy to go home. He just wasn't ready to give up the comradery he had established with his surroundings.  
  
Frank reached the base of the mountain then moved along the path to take another route back. Joe would be waking soon and breakfast would be waiting. Reluctanly, he started back.   
  
Halfway to the main house, Frank heard three male voices in what seemed to be a heated argument. Since the speech was so fast, Frank could understand nothing of what was being said, but he thought it prudent to take a look and make sure the argument, if that was indeed what was occurring, did not get out of hand.  
  
As Frank neared the threesome, his foot came down on a twig which snapped and alerted the three to his presence. "Je regrette," Frank said, attempting to apologize for the intrusion.  
  
The three men stared at Frank, the one man on the right with straight black hair and a thick mustache, growling, "S'en aller."  
  
Frank gave the three men an apologetic grin and backed off. Obviously, he had been mistaken about the argumentive nature of the conversation. 


	2. Chapter Two

Joe groaned and threw his left hand over to the alarm clock, missing and knocking his watch off the nightstand. "Grr," he growled, sitting up and flipping the switch on the back of the clock to stop the annoying ring.  
  
Joe bent down and picked up his watch, checking the time against the alarm clock. He set the watch back on the nightstand and stood up. Stretching, he looked around to see if Frank had returned. Not seeing him, or any sign that he had returned, Joe picked his clothes from the chair on which he had placed them the previous evening, and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.  
  
When Joe exited the bathroom dressed in denim shorts and a pristine white tee which flattered his sun-bronzed skin, Frank still hadn't returned. Joe went to the nightstand and put on his watch. He made his way to the kitchen where a strong, pleasant aroma was concentrated.  
  
"Good morning, Joesph," greeted Marla Duvalier, the plump wife of Dr. Galen Duvalier, and one of his hosts.  
  
"Hi," Joe returned the salutation. "Breakfast smells wonderful," he added, the cuisine being his favorite part of the vacation.   
  
"Oh, you," Mrs. Duvalier said, coyily turning away from Joe's blatant flirtatious grin.  
  
"Where's your brother?" asked Mr. Hardy, a man whose features Frank's would reflect in twenty years time.  
  
"He went for a walk earlier," Joe said, a frown coming on his face. "He should have been back by now."  
  
"Sit down and have breakfast," Mrs. Duvalier instructed. "Galen will help you look for him if he hasn't returned by the time you finish."  
  
"Um," Joe shook his head. "I can't," he said. "I've got to find Frank first."  
  
"Don't go too far," Mr. Hardy said, knowing Joe didn't feel like eating with his brother missing. "He may have strayed from the path and gotten lost. If you don't see him, come back here and Galen and I will help you look for him."  
  
"Will do," Joe agreed, leaving by the kitchen door.   
  
Joe headed down the path Frank had taken, his tracks visible on the sandy turf. "Frank!" Joe shouted as he strode along.  
  
Nothing save the sounds of the insects could be heard. Joe became more worried as he walked along. Frank's footprints still led the way, but Joe knew Frank would have been at the house earlier had something not happened.   
  
Frank was the most dependable person he knew. If they didn't leave on time, they might miss their plane and that would create a problem since there was only one US flight a week to or from the island. Frank would never be late by choice.  
  
"Frank!" Joe shouted again, coming to the base of the mountain as Frank had earlier. Joe looked around for several minutes before spotting Frank's tracks along a different path leading back toward the house.  
  
Joe followed the tracks, noticing where they made a turn into the brush. He stepped from the path and saw Frank's tracks stop just a foot or so inside a clearing.. Perhaps Frank had heard an animal in the brush and went to see. Joe could see no other tracks save Frank's in the small clearing.   
  
He backed up and followed Frank's tracks further. "Frank!" he shouted yet again, as he grew nearer the house.   
  
Joe felt relief wash over him as the house came into view through the trees. He must have just missed Frank. Joe gave a small laugh, knowing Frank was going to tease him about his jumping the gun because he had been a few moments late for breakfast. Frank was the worrier in the family, not Joe.   
  
Joe picked up his pace, in a hurry now to get back to the house and have his own breakfast. No longer looking down, Joe's foot hit something lying on the path and he fell forward.  
  
Joe looked back and gasped. He quickly moved to a sitting position and reached for the wrist of the one person who meant everything to him.  
  
There was no pulse. Joe reached a trembling hand to feel for a pulse in Frank's neck. "No," he whispered, leaning over to listen for a heartbeat. "No, no no," Joe said repeatedly. Joe laid his head on his brother's chest, his tears flowing freely, as Frank's once soulful brown eyes stared up at the sky in seemingly silent disregard. 


	3. Chapter Three

It was almost evening and the plane flying the Hardys touched down on the runway in Bayport. Joe, still in shock, had sat the entire trip staring out the window, his eyes seeing nothing because the tears which had began when he had found Frank had only recently ceased.  
  
When neither boy had returned, Mr. Hardy and Dr. Duvalier had gone in search of them. They had come across the distraught figure of Joe, lying on his brother shortly after exiting the house. Instead of following the footprints as Joe had done, they had heard Joe's anguished sobs and followed the sound.  
  
Mr. Hardy had fallen to his knees and began crying when he saw the boys. He had been oblivious to the paling of his friend's face and the anxious look he had cast around the area.  
  
As Mr. Hardy's tears lessened, he leaned over and toched the shaking back of his youngest son. "Joesph," he said in a ragged whisper.  
  
Joe, lost in despair, never heard him. Mr. Hardy rose and dragged Joe away from his brother. Joe buried his head in his father's shoulder, crying even harder, as Dr. Duvalier kneeled by Frank.  
  
Dr. Duvalier closed Frank's eyes and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Fenton," he said, softly. "He appears to have had a heart attack."  
  
"That's impossible," Mr. Hardy said. "He is," he paused and swallowed. "Was in perfect health."  
  
"You'll need to have an autopsy done," Dr. Duvalier said. "But it will have to be in the states." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's at times like this, I wish I hadn't given up my practice when I inherited this place."  
  
Mr. Hardy nodded his head, knowing the area had no medical facilities and little police. Even the larger cities were ill-equipped for the procedure.  
  
"I'll have some of my men prepare a temporary coffin and ready it for transport," Dr. Duvalier offered.  
  
"The police," Joe breathed. "We need to..to.." he broke off, unable to say more.  
  
"The nearest police are in Petion-Ville," Dr. Duvalier informed the distraught youth. "And it looks like a natural death," he added, swallowing a bit nervously. "You need to catch your plane. If you wait for the next flight, Frank's body will have decomposed too much for a decent funeral afterwards."  
  
"Thank you," Mrs. Hardy whispered, still holding tight to his youngest son. He led Joe away from Frank and back to the house where Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Duvalier were busy packing the rest of the Hardy's things.  
  
As soon as Mr. Hardy and Joe entered the house, the women knew something terrible had happened. Mrs. Hardy, having heard the sobbing of her son, came running into the kitchen. She took one look at her husband's pale face and fell to the floor in a faint.  
  
The plane touched down and soon people began to disembark. Joe sat still, looking out the window, seeing Frank grinning down at him as he held Joe's quilt just out of his reach.  
  
"Son," Mr. Hardy said, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and squeezing it. "We're home." Joe looked up at his dad with bloodshot eyes. "Let's go," Mr. Hardy said gently. Joe gave a slight nod and stood up, allowing his father to lead him from the seat.   
  
Mr. Hardy led Joe forward to where Mrs. Hardy sat, then let him preceed them from the plane. Joe descended the steps, freezing momentarily as he saw his blond-headed, brown-eyed girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, and Frank's girlfriend, Callie Shaw, standing near three of their friends, blond, beefy, eighteen-year old Biff Hooper, chubby, blond headed,seventeen-year-old, Chet Morton, and bookish, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen with sandy hair and glasses, carrying a big welcome home sign.  
  
Joe bowed his head and continued down the steps. By the time he reached his friends they had realized something was amiss and were no longer smiling and waving. The sign had been set down and Vanessa and the boys started forward to meet Joe.  
  
Joe walked by his friends and continued forward until he stood in front of Callie. She looked into Joe's eyes and threw herself into his arms, sobs wracking her body.  
  
Joe held her tight, his own tears falling yet again as the others gathered around the twosome locked in a shared sympathetic embrace.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Hardy joined the group and Vanessa enveloped the petite woman in an embrace.   
  
"What happened?" Phil asked quitely of Mr. Hardy, who seemed to have regained control of his emotions although his eyes were as red as those of his wife and son.  
  
Mr. Hardy shook his head. "It looks like he had a heart attack, but we won't know for sure until after the autopsy," he replied.  
  
After several minutes of silence, Mr. Hardy excused himself to arrange for Frank to be taken to the city morgue. When he returned, the group made their way to the parking lot. Vanessa took Callie home, offering to stay with her for a while since Joe had declined to have anyone over for the time being.  
  
"No," Joe had insisted. "I'm going to the morgue. I'm not going home until I know how he died."  
  
Chet volunteered to take Mrs. Hardy home and wait with her until Joe and Mr. Hardy returned. Phil and Biff left, letting the Hardy's know they would tell their other friends of the tragedy.  
  
When Joe and Mr. Hardy reached the morgue, Bayport's tall and graying Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, was already there. His face was solemn as he greeted the Hardys at the entrance.  
  
"Fenton, what happened?" Chief Collig asked, his face holding more than concern.  
  
Mr. Hardy shook his head sadly. "We don't know," he answered. "Joe found him lying near the house. When Galen and I went looking fot them, we found Joe lying on Frank, crying." He looked Collig in the eyes. "Has the autopsy begun?" he inquired.  
  
"Was he murdered?" Joe asked in a small voice from behind his father.  
  
Collig turned his attention on Joe, saw the despondent look in his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Hardy, not having the courage to tell Joe what he had to say.  
  
"The coffin which came in from Hiati was empty," Collig informed them. "Apparently, Frank's body never left the country." 


	4. Chapter Four

"What?" Joe erupted. Anger filled his being. Anger at Frank's dying. Anger at the loss of Frank's body. Anger at being alive. Anger at himself for not having gone on a morning stroll with his brother. "What do you mean it was empty?"  
  
"Was the coffin tampered with?" Mr. Hardy asked, as confused with the situation as Joe.  
  
"No," Collig stated. "And the crate the coffin was encased in showed no sings of tampering. Whoever took Frank's body, did so before the coffin was readied for flight to the states."  
  
"Why would anyone steal Frank?" Joe asked, completely befuddled.  
  
"It wasn't like they have the facilities for transplants there," Mr. Hardy said thoughtfully. "He wouldn't have been taken to have his organs harvested."  
  
Joe winced at the thought. "We have to go back," he asserted. "Now."  
  
"Easy, Son," Mr. Hardy said, putting an arm around Joe's shoulders. "We will go back, but the next flight into Hiati is a week away."  
  
"Who made arrangements for the transfer of the body?" Collig asked.  
  
"It's Frank!" Joe snapped. "Not the body."  
  
Collig turned on Joe but the words he had been about to say died on his lips. "You're right," he said instead. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Some of Galen's men prepared Frank for the return trip," Mr. Hardy informed Collig. "I'll call him and have him check into it now. Joe and I can further investigate the matter on our return to Hiati."  
  
Collig gave a nod and put a hand on Mr. Hardy's shoulder. "I was very fond of Frank," he said. "And I want you to know if there is anything you need, any of you," he added, looking into Joe's eyes, "don't hesitate to call me."  
  
"Thank you Ezra," Mr. Hardy acknowledged. Joe and Mr. Hardy rode home in silence, each wondering why anyone would want Frank's body.  
  
Earlier that day, a man of short stature, barely five feet tall with tight, curly, black-hair, brown eyes and dark skin had seen a brown-headed American youth intrude upon a private discussion, one he, himself, had been eavesdropping on. When the boy had left, so too, had he.  
  
He had taken an unmarked path to end up a few feet in front of the boy and knelt in the high weeds. As the boy neared, he reached into a small black pouch and withdrew a little powder. Careful not to inhale the powder, he waited until the boy rounded a tree then leapt up and blew the powder into the boy's face.  
  
Almost immediately, the boy froze as he felt his body begin to shut down. The boy fell to the ground, unmoving.  
  
The man quickly removed all traces of the powder from the boy's face with a little cloth, then made sure his own footprints vanished with the help of a fallen branch. To insure no one would suspect foul play, the man backtracked and, finding the three men gone, eliminated signs of their prescence as well.  
  
He had barely finished when he heard someone shout out. Not too long after that, a blond-headed youth came into view. The man hid in a tree and waited silently until he heard the sobbing of the second youth and knew the brown-headed boy had been found. The man then descended the tree and left the area, careful to erase his footprints as he departed.  
  
When the order came down that Duvalier wanted the deceased youth readied for journey, there was refusal among his employees. None dared to cross the Bokur who had only moments before warned of a youth whose soul had been taken by Simbi Andezo, one of the Loa.  
  
The Bokur had insisted that the boy's flesh must remain in Hiati so that when his soul had finished doing Simbi Andezo's bidding, it would be able to return. The people knew from experience that the boy's soulless corpse would do the Bokur's bidding until Simbi Andezo had finished with the soul.  
  
It was finally decided, without the Duvalier's knowledge, that an empty coffin would be given to the visiting Americans with which to return to the states. The actual corpse was taken to the home of the Bokur and placed on the altar to be attended to later.  
  
That night, as dusk settled in, the people gathered outside of the Bokur's home. Simbi Andezo must be called to rouse the flesh as it waited for the soul. The ritual generally took three nights and all must participate. The chickens and goats were readied for sacrifice as the body was carried outside. The Bokur followed the body, chanting prayers to the Loa.  
  
Before Simbi Andezo could be summoned, Legba must first be approached. Tonight belonged to Legba. His permission must be given before the Bokur could seek Ghede on the following eve. The third night would be spent seeking out Simbi Andezo to request use of the flesh while awaiting for the soul.   
  
The first part of the ritual required flesh be returned from where it had originated. Since all life came from the earth, the body must be returned. A shallow grave was dug and Frank's body was placed in the hole. His eyes had been reopened and one could imagine the horror if the boy was conscious of what was being done to him.  
  
The ritual began. As the Bokur chanted and the people danced, a houngan, a high priest, sacrificed the first of the animals, letting the blood drip down onto the belly of the boy in the grave.  
  
The drums, which the Hardys had heard every night since their arrival, played throughout the evening at close quarters. As the sun began to rise, the chanting, dancing and drumming ceased. The Bokur leapt into the grave with Frank and sat on his chest, swaying and mumbling incoherently.  
  
It was whispered among the natives that the Bokur had been mounted be Legba. Soon the motions of the Bokur ceased and he leaned over and closed Frank's eyes. The Bokur climbed out of the grave and the body of Frank Hardy was covered with dirt. 


	5. Chapter Five

"I can't believe we came back without my baby!" wailed Mrs. Hardy. "Why didn't you make sure Frank was there?" she demanded angrily of her husband.  
  
Knowing she wasn't really mad at him, Mr. Hardy pulled his wife into his arms and helld her tight as she cried. Joe, unable to watch his parents grieve, turned and left the room. Chet, who had been standing in shock since the Hardy men had arrived and let them know about Frank, followed Joe.  
  
Joe went through the kitchen and out the back door, sitting down on the steps and burying his head in his arms as they rested on his knees. He couldn't handle going upstairs. There was too much to remind him of Frank.  
  
Chet sat down beside Joe nad put an arm around his shoulder. "I know what you're going through," Chet said softly.  
  
Joe said nothing, knowing Chet had lost a sister, Iola. She had been Joe's childhood sweetheart who had been killed in a terrorist attack almost a year before.  
  
"Iola and I weren't as close as you and Frank were, but I know how much it hurts and how angry you are. It's okay, you know," Chet continued. "To be mad at Frank, I mean."  
  
Joe lifted his head and turned on Chet, his blue eyes blazing. "I'm not!" he denied forcefully, realizing as he said it, he was. He was mad at Frank for leaving him. Tears sprang to his eyes and Joe fell onto Chet, sobbing.  
  
"It's not his fault," Joe mumbled through his sobs.  
  
"I know," Chet replied, his voice soothing.  
  
"Why am I such a horrible person?" Joe demanded, turning his anger on himself.  
  
"You're not!" Chet declared hotly. "Don't think such a thing. It's only natural you would feel mad at Frank for leaving you."  
  
Joe leaned away from Chet and looked at him curiously. "You said something like that before," Joe commented. "How do you know it's natural?"  
  
"Because I felt that way when Iola died," Chet admitted. "But after seeing a psychiatrist, it was mom's idea we all go to try and cope with the way Iola died, I found out it's a part of grieving." He shrugged his broad shoulders and looked down at his hands. "Denial, hurt, anger. All those emotions come, but they go away. Then the loneliness comes, it goes away too, but to a lesser degree."  
  
Chet looked into Joe's eyes. "Frank would have flattened anyone who said you were bad. Including you," he added with a small chuckle. "He loved you very much and would never have wanted you to suffer because of him."  
  
"But it hurts so much," Joe said, bursting into tears again.  
  
The next day, Chet, Biff, Phil, Vanessa and Callie arrived at the Hardy home with their parents. Joe, unable to sleep upstairs, had finally crashed on the living room sofa about four that morning. When the bell rang at eight a.m., he leapt to his feet and opened it, hoping it was Chief Collig with news of Frank's whereabouts.  
  
"Oh, hi," Joe said, his voice glum and his once bright eyes, red and lusterless. "Come on in," he invited, stepping aside so they could enter.  
  
"Chet told us about Frank," Biff said in a hushed voice. "When you and your dad go back next week, we're going too."  
  
"What?" Joe asked, shocked at their offer.  
  
"We talked it over with our parents," Phil said. "They think it's a good idea if we go with you."  
  
"Not the girls, though," Mrs. Shaw quickly put in. "They are going to stay here with your mother."  
  
"That...that would be wonderful," Joe said, touched. "Thank you."  
  
"What would be wonderful?" Mr. Hardy asked as he and Mrs. Hardy entered the foyer where everyone stood.  
  
Mr. Hooper told them about the offer, then the adults went into the living room and the teens went outside and took seats on the porch. Vanessa sat on Joe's right side and held his hand as Callie sat on Joe's left side, her blood-shot eyes staring into space.  
  
"Where are you going to start looking?" Vanessa asked, her fingers absently rubbing Joe's hand.  
  
"The plantation," Joe said. "Chief Collig said the crate hadn't been tampered with, so Frank never left."  
  
Callie glanced at Joe curiously. Joe's voice had taken a softer tone by the time he had finished speaking, but it wasn't actually sad. "Why did you say it like that?" Callie asked him.  
  
"Say what like what?" Joe asked, unaware.  
  
"You said Frank had never left like that might have been a good thing," Callie accused him.  
  
Joe shrugged. "Frank loved Hiati," Joe admitted. "I don't think he wanted our vacation to end just yet. He...he tried to get me to go with him for a walk yesterday morning," he added, starting to cry again. "I should have gone."  
  
"You couldn't have known," Phil said softly.  
  
"Did he..did he miss me at all?" Callie asked, changing the subject.  
  
"What?" Vanessa, Chet, Phil and Biff all asked in shocked disbelief. Joe's brother had just died and Callie was on an ego trip!  
  
Joe sniffed and looked at Callie. He saw the once sassy blond look at him with eyes which begged for a crumb of compassion.  
  
Joe pulled his hand away from Vanessa and pulled Callie into his arms. He had been so wrapped up in his own grief, he had forgotten about the girl his brother had loved and who had loved him.  
  
"Frank said, at least once every day we were there, that if only you had gone with us, Hiati would have been Paradise," Joe told her truthfully. Callie clung to Joe and buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
"He really loved you," Joe added softly, rubbing her hair as he held her tight.  
  
As darkness ascended, the ritual began. Women and men began gyrating to the rhythm of the drums. The Bokur stood on Frank's grave and began chanting to the Loa Ghede.  
  
It is to Ghede the Bokur must first pay the request for use of the boy's flesh, for Ghede had power over the dead. Ghede is the Loa of resurrection as well as death.  
  
The ritual was much the same as the night before save specific chants were said to obtain Ghede's attention. As dawn neared, Ghede's prescence was observed in the appearance of a young man who seemed to flirt with all the females while breaking into song every few minutes. Soon, he began the familiar banda dance, the special copulation dance known to be Ghede's favorite.   
  
As the sun rose, Ghede's persona approached the grave where the Bokur was swaying and humming. All participants fell to the ground, covering their heads in respect. The Bokur asked one question and listened to the answer before falling to the ground in respect as the others had done. Seconds later, Ghede had gone.  
  
"They're going to come back," Mrs. Duvalier stated, hearing the drums cease.  
  
"Of course they are," Dr. Duvalier agreed. "We will just have to keep them occupied until Frank is released and his body can be returned to the states."  
  
"Maybe they will give up," Mrs. Duvalier said, hopefully looking into her husband's eyes.  
  
"Would you if it were our son?" he asked her.  
  
"What if they find out what has happened to Frank?" she asked, still worried.  
  
"Then God help them!" 


	6. Chapter Six

"I managed to get us booked on the next flight to Hiati," Mr. Hardy said the next morning as he, Joe and Mrs. Hardy sat at the breakfast table. "Unfortunately, I had to take the seats that were left, so no one will be sitting together."  
  
Joe shrugged. "As long as we get there," he said, giving up the pretense of eating and dropping his fork down on top of his undisturbed scrambled eggs.   
  
"Eat your breakfast," Mrs. Hardy ordered.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Joe replied.  
  
"Nor am I," Mr. Hardy countered. "But if you starve yourself, how much help do you think you'll be in finding your brother?"  
  
Joe stared at his father, whose return gaze never waivered, then picked up his fork. "I'll call the guys and let them know," he said before taking a small bite.  
  
"Another one," Mrs. Duvalier said to her husband as he sat down. She handed him a cup of coffee then sat down opposite him. "Why do they keep warning us?" she demanded fearfully.  
  
"They think we will try to get involved," Dr. Duvalier said. He shook his head. "Fenton called this morning," he continued. "He, Joe and three of Joe's friends are coming to look for Frank."  
  
"They can't stay here!" Mrs. Duvalier snapped.  
  
"Marla!" Dr. Duvalier reproached his wife.   
  
"But they will take it out on us if we help the Hardys," Mrs. Duvalier said tearfully. "You know what they are capable of."  
  
"I know," he responded somberly, getting up and putting an arm around his wife's shoulders. "But you know the Hardys. If it were our son, they would do everything in their power to help us. All they are asking from us is a place to stay while they search. How could we deny them?"  
  
"But if they..." Mrs. Duvalier began only to fall silent as her husband placed a finger to her lips.  
  
"We can send Joe and his friends searching elsewhere," Dr. Duvalier suggested. "None of them speak the language so they won't be able to find out Frank's corpse never left the plantation."  
  
Mrs. Duvalier shivered. "It was bad enough when we found out they turned their own followers into those...those..things," she said, unable to accept the truth even now. "But to think of Frank as one." She shivered again and looked into her husband's eyes. "I know you like this place because it was your grandfather's," she said. "But couldn't we sell it and move back to the states?" she begged.  
  
"Marla," Dr. Duvalier began in a sad voice.   
  
"You could start another practice," she said quickly, knowing he had been about to refuse outright. "You know you miss it."  
  
"I'll think about it," he promised, kissing her forhead. "I'd better go clean the blood the door or no one will work today," he added, moving away.  
  
Later that evening, the people gathered once again outside the home of the Bokur. The Bokur stood on the grave, chanting and raising his arms up into the air before falling to the ground and putting his lips to the earth. Again, he stood up and repeated the same chant then fell and kissed the dirt. One more time did this ritual take place as all who were gathered remained on the ground, their heads resting on their arms against the earth.  
  
The Bokur stepped away from the grave and four men leapt to their feet and picked up shovels. They began to dig up the grave as some began drumming and others dancing. When the body had been unearthed, it was placed on an altar made of wooden planks which had been placed in the shape of a cross. The dancing and drumming ceased and the Bokur walked around the body chanting and throwing a dark green substance about it.  
  
The Bokur then raised his arm and with a knife cut it, allowing his blood to fall down onto the still flesh. He then lifted the head, opened the mouth and let the liquid flow down the throat of the youth.  
  
This done, the Bokur laid the boy's head back down and opened the eyes. The drumming and dancing began as the Bokur sat just above Frank's head.  
  
As dawn neared, Frank's chest could be seen to move, soft breaths at first and then deep heaves as his mouth burst open to gulp in air. He shot up into a sitting position, his eyes wide in an unseeing horror. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Joe heaved a sigh as he settled into his seat for the flight to Hiati. The last week had taken it's toll on the youth. The once healthy lad had become noticed for his sallow skin and sad look. He had become quiet and withdrawn and rarely spoke even to his friends.  
  
"Hello, my name is Jima," said the dark-haired, dark-skinned youth who took the seat next to Joe's.  
  
Joe gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, not saying anything. He wanted to be left alone and knew just by looking at the boy who was in his early twenties that if he said anything the boy would try ceaselessly to draw him into a conversation.  
  
"I will be so glad to get back home, even if it is only for a visit," Jima continued to talk. "I started Bayport University this last fall. I haven't seen my mother or brothers since."  
  
He paused, waiting for Joe to say something, but he remained silent. Jima continued. "My father was American, but when he interned in Hiati, he met my mother and when they wed, they moved back to the states. My father died two years ago and my mother decided to return to Hiati."  
  
Again, Jima paused, waiting for Joe to make some comment. "Even though I only lived in Hiati for a year, I love it. Granted, most of the place is pretty barren, but my grandparents own a plantation which is still very beautiful. Even the Duvalier plantations next to ours is lovely."  
  
"You're next to the Duvalier place?" Joe asked, Jima having captured his interest at last.  
  
Jima gave a wide smile, revealing bright white teeth. "Yes," he affirmed. "You know the Duvaliers?" he inquired.  
  
"We just finished vacationing at their plantation," Joe admitted. "I'm Joe Hardy," he finally introduced himself.  
  
Jima's forehead wrinkled in confusion as he tilted his head questioningly at Joe. "If you just finished vacationing there, why are you flying to Hiati and not from?"  
  
"My...my brother died on our last day there," Joe informed him. "When we got back tot he states, we found out his body hadn't been shipped with us."  
  
"I'm sorry," Jima said, compassion in his voice. "How did he die?"  
  
"Dr. Duvalier said it was probably a heart attack, but..." Joe broke off, shaking his head.  
  
"But?" Jima prompted.  
  
"But Frank was in great shape," Joe said a bit angrily. "How could he have had a heart attack?"  
  
"Was he alone when he died?" Jima asked thoughtfully.  
  
"Yeah," Joe answered. "He had gone for a walk and never came back."  
  
"Uh, Joe, I don't want to scare you or anything and please don't think I'm crazy, but maybe he wasn't dead," Jima said.  
  
"I checked him myself," Joe told him. "He had no pulse or heartbeat."  
  
"My mother is native Hiatian," Jima began. "All my life I have heard stories about Hiati, it's people and religion. Most, I admit, I never believed until we moved there after Dad died."  
  
Joe was giving Jima his full attention now, waiting to see what Jima had meant about Frank.  
  
"There is a poison that can slow the body down to the point where even a doctor could be fooled into believing the person was dead," Jima continued. "The person is effectively dead and then buried. When a Hougan or Bokur gives the antidote upon retrieving the body, the person becomes a zombie."  
  
"A zombie?" Joe demanded in disgust. "You mean an undead, brain-eater? Plueeze," he ended, disbelief evident all over his face.  
  
"A real zombie," Jima insisted. "Not a Hollywood one. Zombies do the bidding of the person who brings them back to life, so to speak. It's basically free labor. The zombies do wahtever they are told to do and are incapable of asking for anything in return. They don't even know enough to eat or drink unless something is brought to their lips."  
  
"But after the poison wears off, why would the person keep obeying his master?" Joe asked, unable to think of a more suitable word. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Mr. Hardy, Chet, Phil and Biff, who had been sitting closer to the exit, waited for Joe to appear. Each had noticed the drastic change in the once happy, outgoing boy and were trying to think of something that would lift his spirits.  
  
As Joe stepped off the plane and onto the first step, every memeber of the waiting group was dumbstruck. The blond-headed youth, who had been so reserved on their departure, was now smiling. Even from the distance, they could make out the spark in Joe's eyes and see by the hurried descension that Joe's entire attitude had changed.  
  
Before Joe could head over to his waiting friends, Jima clamped a hand on Joe's shoulder. "Remember, we're right next to the Duvaliers and I, my mother, brothers and grandmother, all speak English. If you need any help, let me know. I would be glad to help. But please," he added in a lower voice. "Don't let my family know. Voodoo is very real here."  
  
"I can see that," Joe said. "I used to think it was just black magic, like witchcraft back in the states. But since our stay here, I've learned it's much more than that."  
  
"See ya 'round," Jima said and headed over to where a boy, not much younger than Joe, stood waiting.  
  
Joe joined his dad and friends. He was about to tell them what he had learned from Jima, but was prevented by the arrival of Dr. Duvalier.  
  
"I'm sorry, Fenton," Dr. Duvalier said, clasping his hand in a firm grip. "I've had my men look for Frank, but he just isn't on the plantation."  
  
"You mean someone took his body elsewhere?" Chet asked.  
  
"Galen, allow me to introduce Chet Morton, Phil Cohen and Biff Hooper," Mr. Hardy said.  
  
"Where do you think he might be?" Joe asked, rudely interuppting the introduction.  
  
Dr. Duvalier looked at Joe. "One of the men told me a truck was seen leaving the plantation shortly after Frank's coffin had been put in the crate," he said. "Frank's body was most likely taken away on it."  
  
"But the crate hadn't been tampered with," Joe pointed out.  
  
"There was probably a mix-up, and the wrong crate was taken," Dr. Duvalier replied a bit nervoulsy.  
  
"Soooo, you're saying there were two crates, each with a coffin inside of it, and the one with Frank was taken by mistake?" Joe asked, his tone voicing his disbelief.  
  
"Joesph!" snapped Mr. Hardy.  
  
"You are right, of course," Dr. Duvalier agreed with Joe. "It does not seem plausible, does it? Perhaps, I was misinformed."  
  
"Who told you about the truck?" Joe asked.  
  
"Mebwa," Dr. Duvalier answered.  
  
"Can we speak with him?" inquired Mr. Hardy.  
  
"I'm afraid that isn't possible," was the answer.  
  
"Why not?" Phil asked, beginning, along with Joe, to think the man was lying.  
  
"He left two days ago," Dr. Duvalier said. "His mother became ill and he had to leave."  
  
"Convienent," Biff murmurred as Dr. Duvalier and Mr. Hardy turned and walked toward the airport's customs center.  
  
"You don't believe him?" whispered Chet in surprise.  
  
"Not a word," Joe confirmed.  
  
"Why would he take Frank's body?" Chet wondered in amazement.  
  
"I don't think he did," Joe replied. "I think he's scared."  
  
"Agreed," Phi stated. "But of what?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "Voodoo," he said softly, moving forward and catching up to his dad and their host. 


	9. Chapter Nine

The three friends froze in midstride, briefly, before catching up with Joe. They didn't have another chance to talk until they had reached the plantation and settled into their quarters.  
  
Mrs. Duvalier had arranged for Joe and his friends to stay in the guest house. She had thought, and rightfully so, that Joe would not be comfortable staying in the room he had shared with his brother on his previous visit. And, although she hadn't admitted this to her husband, she felt if they were away from the house, the locals would leave her and her husband alone. She had wanted Mr. Hardy to stay with the boys as well but her husband had been adamant about him staying at the main house.  
  
"Okay, Joe," Chet said, turning a wooden chair backward and sitting down. Resting his arm on the back of the chair, he gave Joe a penetrating look. "What's all this nonsense about voodoo?"  
  
"It isn't nonsense," Joe said, flopping down on a chair. He told his friends about his conversation with Jima on the plane.  
  
"Voodoo?" Biff asked, not sure he was hearing right. "Frank's mixed up in voodoo?"  
  
"No!" Joe shouted. "Well, kind of," he amended.  
  
"Maybe," Phil qualified.  
  
"The only way to know for sure is to find Frank, alive or....or," Joe broke off, unwilling to say dead now there was a chance he was alive.  
  
"Where do we start?" Chet asked.  
  
"I would say with the Duvalier's but that didn't work out very well at the airport," Joe began. "So, how about if we start tonight by exploring the grounds?"  
  
"Let's go," Chet said, standing up.  
  
"He said tonight." Biff told Chet, shaking his head. "Why tonight?" he asked Joe. "We won't be able to see much at night."  
  
"Frank and I looked all over this place in the day," Joe informed them. "But at night, when the drums were going, we stayed in."   
  
"Drums?" Chet asked nervously.  
  
"They played every night while we were here," Joe affirmed. "The Duvualier's never told us we couldn't go out after dark, but they always had something for all of us to do after dinner right up until bedtime." Joe quit speaking and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe Frank left for his walk too early and did see something he shouldn't have."  
  
"We should get some rest," Phil suggested. "It's not long until sundown." The boys retired after Joe had set the alarm clock.  
  
When the alarm rang at 8 p.m., Joe switched it off immediately. He rousted the other boys, then went into the small kitchen, Mrs. Duvalier having stocked it for their arrival, and made sandwiches. By the time the other three boys had joined him, Joe had sandwiches and bottled water on the table for them all.  
  
"You're fast," Phil commented, sitting down.  
  
"Now I know there's a chance Frank's alive, I've got so much energy," Joe explained, his eyes shining.  
  
Although it was great to see Joe almost back to normal, Phil couldn't help but wonder what Joe was gong to be like if Frank were dead, or worse yet, if he were one of the undead.  
  
"Eat up," Joe urged his friends. His excitement was so great, that for the first time since before he had found his brother on the path, he devoured the food in front of him almost without pausing for a breath.  
  
When he had finished, he pulled out two sheets of paper. "This is a map of the plantation from what I remember," Joe said, handing one sheet to Phil. "If you see anything else, put it down and we'll fix the maps tomorrow."  
  
"We're splitting up?" Chet squeaked.  
  
"It will be faster if we break into two groups," Joe told him. "Phil and Biff can start on the west side and you and I can handle the east."  
  
"What about the drums you mentioned?" Biff asked.  
  
"Check them out, but stay out of sight," Joe decided. "I don't want anyone else to go missing."  
  
"We'll meet back here at daybreak," Phil said, looking to Joe for confirmation.  
  
"Right," Joe agreed. "And if we don't find anything, we'll go see Jima tomorrow. He agreed to help with translation if we needed him."  
  
Joe got up and handed everyone flashlights. "I just put the batteries in before we left," he said. "They should last the night."  
  
Leaving their plates and empty bottles sitting on the table, the four boys exited the guest house. Phil and Biff headed left and Joe and Chet started on the right.  
  
They had only been gone a few minutes when the sound of drums permeated the night air. Chet latched onto Joe's arm. "Is....is th....that the drums we have to find?" he stammered, fear starting to take hold.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied, smiling faintly. He knew Chet didn't particularly like working on a mystery but he knew, too, that Chet would never back down or desert his friends no matter what the circumstances.  
  
"Let's go," Joe said in a quiet voice. "I think it's coming from over there." He turned and pointed in a north-westernly direction. "Keep quiet and don't say anything unless you have too," Joe ordered, leading the way. Chet swallowed the lump in his throat and followed behind Joe, keeping his light on the ground as Joe did.  
  
The drumming grew louder and soon voices could be heard. Joe flicked off his light and motioned for Chet to do the same. The two boys crept closer.  
  
They stopped just short of the clearing and watched as a scene from a horror movie played before them. Two tall men stood at a small table in the center of the clearing. All around were native people, lying prone on the ground, as zombies, for no other word could come to mind, made their way to the table.  
  
The zombies shuffled forward in an unsteady gate, their hands hanging limply at their sides. Unseeing eyes stared straight ahead except for those whose heads hung down to one side.   
  
These latter zombies were the ones who most favored the dead in the horror flicks the boys saw back in the states. They were thin with their bones almost visible beneath their skin and their mouths hung open as they walked about with jerky movements.  
  
Joe and Chet shuddered at the sight but were unable to turn away as two zombies took a turn at the table where they were given a drink from a wooden bowl. Then they would continue walking into the woods.  
  
Joe watched as two more zombies walked off, trying to see which direction they were taking. A strangled cry from Chet made his eyes swing back to the table. Joe's eyes widened in fear and surprise which quickly turned into anger. At the table, drinking from the bowl, was his brother! 


	10. Chapter Ten

Frank moved towards the woods and Joe took off, skirting the edge of the clearing, to follow him. Chet, still transfixed in shock, never even noticed Joe leave.  
  
Although Joe wanted desperately to catch up with Frank and envelope him in a good old-fashioned bear hug, he restrained himself. Though Frank was alive, he was under the influence of something. The something being whatever had been in the bowl Frank and the others had drank from.  
  
If Joe wanted to rescue Frank, and there was nothing he wanted more, he would have to stay out of sight of Frank, the other victims, and whoever was in charge until he knew exactally what was going on.  
  
Joe followed discreetly until Frank stopped by a shed. Someone, he was too far away for a good look, handed Frank a shovel. Frank then made his way over to where several of the other zombies were digging and joined them.  
  
"Slave labor," Joe said to himself in disgust. "Someone's giving these people the bare minimum they need to stay alive and getting their work done for free. But why the ceremony?" he wondered, his forehead creased in thought.  
  
Joe stayed and watched Frank for the rest of the evening. As dawn grew near, the undead workers returned their equipment after a short man barked at them in Native Hiatian. Frank, not understanding the language, kept on digging until another man came forward and shouted, "Return your shovel and go to the cave."  
  
Frank followed the others to the tool shed where they, after turning in their equipment, turned and headed for the edge of the clearing where Joe was hidden!  
  
Growling, Joe backed away a little, then climbed a tree. He would wait until they passed before climbing down and following them.  
  
Joe watched silently as the abused individuals passed below, his heart going out to them as a child, no more than ten, followed a woman well into her sixties.  
  
As the last of them moved off, Joe made to climb down but stopped as he heard more footsteps coming his way. Unlike the steps of the zombies which were irregular and trampled any and all branches in their path, these were quieter and made no sound except for the soft thud as food met solid earth.  
  
Joe stayed where he was, cursing silently because he was unable to follow Frank and the others now.  
  
The footsteps drew nearer and stopped. Joe peered down and saw the man who had shouted at Frank in English. Unable to get a good look at the man, Joe could still see his short dark brown hair and navy short-sleeved shirt. He was wearing black pants and seeemed to be waiting for someone.  
  
The eerie glow of dawn became bright as the sun began to clumb higher in the sky. Over forty minutes later, Joe's legs were beginning to ache. The man below had sat down and was resting his back against the tree. Should he look up, Joe would be seen, but the man kept looking forward. Joe thought he may have fallen asleep. He wondered who was so important that this man would wait in the middle of the woods.  
  
Twenty more minutes and another person appeared. Appeared, for Joe had not seen, nor heard, the man approach. Neither had the man leaning against the tree, for when the newcomer spoke, the man leeapt to his feet. Although Joe didn't understand what was being said, he felt sure the man was apologizing for a moment later, the newcomer held up a hand and the first man fell silent.  
  
Joe heard the conversation and tried to remember some of the words so he could ask Jima what they meant. He was sure the small man was someone of importance. After a few minutes the man left and the other man, after kneeling and tying his shoe, also departed. By the time Joe descended from the tree, both men were gone.  
  
Joe pulled out his map of the plantation and retraced his trip. He was somewhere on a neighboring plantation. Joe wondered briefly if this one belonged to Jima's family as he marked the clearing on the map.  
  
Back at the guest house Chet, Biff and Phil were all waiting anxiously. Biff and Phil had not witnessed the ceremony last evening and were finding what Chet told them a bit hard to swallow.  
  
Chet had remained where Joe left him and watched as the zombies disappeared from view. Then the people rose to their feet and began dancing. Soon, however, all fell quiet as a beautiful dark-skinned young woman arrived. She was dressed in a long, silver gown and her face sparkled as the firelight danced off the flecks of glitter on her face.  
  
The silence then faded as the three drummmers began again. The young woman flirted with the men as the women rushed to her with offerings of lace and jewelry.  
  
As the night wore on, the young woman seemed to grow depressed, she left near dawn and the ceremony began to wind down. Chet remained where he was until everyone had left. He made his way back to the guest house and waited for the others to return.  
  
When Biff and Phil entered the house, Chet was waiting in the entryway and told them about seeing Frank and Joe following him.  
  
"Frank is alive?" Biff demanded, disbelief written all over his face.  
  
"He's a zombie," Chet declared.  
  
Phil looked at Chet skeptically. "You actually saw Frank?" he asked. "Moving?"  
  
Chet nodded vigorously, then told them about the strange young woman at the ceremony. Phil shot Biff a look then took Chet by the shoulder and led him to a chair. "Sit diwn and relax," he told Chet. "Joe should be here soon."  
  
"But what if they got him?" Chet demanded as Biff came over and pushed Chet down.  
  
"Relax," Phil ordered. "If Joe doesn't show up, we'll go looking for him."  
  
As time went on and Joe did not return, the boys became worried. "I knew it!" Chet declared, standing up and wringing his hands. "They got Joe."  
  
"Let's go look for him," Biff said, going over to the door and pulling it open.  
  
As the door swung open, Joe Hardy, blood on his forehead, fell forward into Biff's arms. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Biff caught Joe as he fell and half-carried, half-dragged him to the sofa. Chet ran for a bottle of water as Phil helped ease Joe down. When Chet returned, Biff pulled a bandana from his back pocket and poured a little water on it before gently dabbing at Joe's forehead.  
  
Chet took the bottle back, then held it to Joe's lips and held Joe's head as he swallowed. "What happened?" Chet asked, moving the water away and letting Joe's head rest against the back of the sofa.  
  
"I was on my way back here when something, a branch I think, just came out of nowhere and decked me," Joe said, pausing and wincing in pain as Biff's administrations came into contact with his open wound. "I was out for a while, I'm not sure how long, but when I came to, I came here. But I felt...I feel..so woozy," he ended, reaching up to touch his forehead but wincing again and dropping his hand quickly as it came into contact with the wound.  
  
"Biff, go get Dr. Duvalier," Phil ordered, taking charge.  
  
"No," Joe tried to argue, but his voice came out weak and he closed his eyes as a wave of pain washed over him.  
  
"Yes," Biff asserted, his voice stern. He left the guest house at a run.  
  
"Where's Frank?" Chet asked, unable to contain himself any longer.  
  
"Who? Oh, Frank...I...lost him," Joe replied, disoriented and miserable.  
  
"You what?" Chet shouted at him. "How could you lose...." he broke off abruptly as Phil stomped on his foot.  
  
"After Dr. Duvalier takes a look at you, you can tell us about it," Phil said to Joe, shooting Chet a dirty look. "But until then, be quiet and relax," he ordered.  
  
A few minutes later, Mr. Hardy and Biff arrived followed by their host. "What happened?" Mr. Hardy demanded, seeing how weak his son looked.  
  
Phil repeated what Joe had told them about the attack as Dr. Duvalier examined Joe. "This doesn't look like a cut from a branch," Dr. Duvalier said. "It's too neat."  
  
"Are you sure?" Mr. Hardy asked, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement.  
  
Dr. Duvalier nodded. "Why would anyone cut him?" Chet asked, his expression matching that of Mr. Hardy and the other boys.  
  
Dr. Duvalier paled as a thought occurred to him. "Joe, can you tell me your full name?" he asked.  
  
"Joe Hardy," Joe replied.  
  
"What's your middle name?" Phil asked.  
  
"Uh..." Joe seemed lost. "Daniel," he finally answered.  
  
"Where are you?" Dr, Duvalier asked.  
  
"Um..home..no, that's," Joe began answering.  
  
"Why is he having trouble remembering?" Biff asked.  
  
"He's been poisoned," was Dr. Duvalier's shocking reply.  
  
"And there are no hospitals for miles," Mr. Hardy said in a strangled voice, his face as white as the shirt he wore.  
  
"We need to get him to the manor," Dr. Duvalier said, pulling Joe to his feet and slipping one of Joe's arms around his neck. Bff took Joe's other arm and placed it over his neck and together they made for the door.  
  
"Phil, run ahead and tell Marla that Joe's been given somyan. She'll know what to do," Dr. Duvalier instructed.  
  
Phil took off at a run as Chet and Mr. Hardy each grabbed one of Joe's legs and help carry the now almost unconscious youth to the main house. By the time they arrived at the manor, Mrs. Duvalier was grinding herbs and Phil was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Take him into the living room," Mrs. Duvalier ordered.  
  
They put him on the sofa and let his head hang off. Phil entered the room carrying a first aid kit Mrs. Duvalier had sent him upstairs after. Dr. Duvalier opened the kit and removed several items, including a sealed package containing one needle with a peculiar looking thread.  
  
"Go get a cold wet wash cloth," Dr. Duvalier ordered Mr. Hardy.  
  
"I feel sick," mumbled Joe, trying to sit up.  
  
"Stay put," ordered Dr. Duvalier, gently easing Joe back down.  
  
Mr. Hardy returned with the wet cloth and Dr. Duvalier took it and cleaned Joe's forehead. Mrs. Duvalier entered the room carrying a tray which she sat on the coffee table near Joe.   
  
"Yeech," Biff grunted, seeing a wooden bowl filled with water and leeches.  
  
Dr. Duvalier removed one of the leeches from the bowl with a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit. He placed it on Joe's forehead . In seconds, the leech ceased moving. "We're going to need more," he said, removing the dead leech and replacing it with another.  
  
"Run to the creek and gather more," Mrs. Duvalier instructed Phil, Biff and Chet. "Take some large bowls from the kitchen."  
  
As Dr. Duvalier continued his administrations, Mrs. Duvalier had Mr. Hardy lift Joe's head so he could sip the brew she had prepared. Soon, the boys returned with more leeches and watched as Dr. Duvalier kept replacing them.  
  
Joe was made to drink the brew which looked like oil and smelled worse until every drop was gone. Almost three hours later, Joe seemed to be getting better. The last leech Dr. Duvalier had placed on Joe's forehead was gorging itself. When it had it's fill and fell off of it's own accord, both the Duvaliers let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"The poison is gone," Dr. Duvalier stated, cleaning Joe's forhead. Joe winced as the antiseptic touched his wound then gritted his teeth when he saw Dr. Duvalier open the packaged needle.  
  
Joe was helped to a sitting position, then Dr. Duvalier stitched Joe's wound. "You need to go to bed and rest now," Dr. Duvalier ordered Joe, finishing the sixth and final stitch.  
  
"I can't," Joe denied weakly. "I've got to find Frank."  
  
"He's dead," Mrs. Duvalier said gently. "One more day won't matter."  
  
"No, he's not," Joe insited. "I saw him."  
  
"You are still confused," Mrs. Duvalier insisted.  
  
"I saw him too," Chet spoke up. "But he was a ...a zombie."  
  
Dr. Duvalier shot his wife a glance, then ran a hand through his hair much as Frank did when bothered. "Look, Joe has to rest. You won't be able to find Frank again until nightfall anyway."  
  
"You knew?" Mr. Hardy demanded, rounding on his friend in shock.  
  
"The night you left," Mrs. Duvalier answered. "They began warning us to stay out of it."  
  
"Who are they and out of what?" Mr. Hardy asked, his gaze intent.  
  
But both Duvaliers shook their heads. "After Joe and the boys have rested," Dr. Duvalier insisted. "At dinner, we will tell you what you wish to know."  
  
Mr. Hardy felt prepared to argue until he took another look at his youngest son. Joe was pale and it was obvious he was struggling to stay in an upright position. Mr. Hardy gave a frustrated sigh. "Very well," he conceeded. "But at dinner, I expect not only the truth but the entire truth."  
  
"Understood," Dr. Duvalier stated, rising. "Perhaps the boys should sleep here," he suggested.  
  
"No," Joe declined. "The guys can help me back to the guest house."  
  
Biff and Chet each took a side and helped Joe to his feet. Phil looked at Joe thoughtfully. He knew Joe should stay but he felt Joe had something to discuss with them that he preferred the Duvaliers not hear. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chet and Biff helped Joe back to the guest house. Phil, in front, opened the door and turned on the light. "Upstairs and into bed," Phil ordered.  
  
"But.." Joe started to protest.  
  
"But anything you need to tell us you can tell us after you are in bed," Phil stated firmly. "You do need to get some rest or you won't be able to help find Frank."  
  
"I found Frank," Joe said.   
  
"In bed!" snapped Phil. Joe bit his lip and refrained from saying any more until the guys had escorted him upstairs and into bed. Once there, Joe told everyone about the previous night, beginning with his and Chet's investigation of the drums.  
  
"What could that stuff be that the zombies were drinking?" Biff asked, scratching his head.  
  
"Could have been a diluted version of the poison Joe was given," Phil guessed. "It was probably the only kind of poison whoever attacked Joe had on him at the time."  
  
"Why the same kind?" Chet asked. "It could have been something different."  
  
"True, but think about it. The poison made Joe confused," Phil explained. "They probably use a weaker form of the poison on a regular basis to keep the victims to the point they don't know what they are doing."  
  
"But why would they take it in the first place?" Chet asked.  
  
"Maybe they are in shock and don't realize what is going on when they get the first dose or so," Joe guessed.   
  
"But what would cause the shock?" Chet demanded.  
  
"Being buried alive," Phil said in a quiet voice.  
  
The other boys stared at Phil in shock. "What are you talking about?" Joe demanded, dreading the answer.  
  
"Before you got back this morning, I was looking through a book on voodoo I found downstairs on the bookcase," Phil explained. "It said the poison was used to slow the life systems down and then the victim was buried alive for three days before being resurrected to do his master's bidding."  
  
"Buried," Joe said, his eyes wide in horror. "Alive? For three days?" He shook his head, trying to chase away the horrible thoughts which raced through his brain. "No..." he said, tears coming to his eyes. "Frank used to be afraid of the dark."  
  
"Which would put him into shock even more, if that is possible," Phil observed.   
  
"When I find out who did this to Frank, I'll bury them!" Joe vowed, sitting up in bed and ignoring the wave of nausea washing over him.  
  
"Easy," Biff said, pushing Joe back down. "We'll rescue Frank, but we can't until tonight. You heard Dr. Duvalier. Frank won't be back out until dark."  
  
"In the meantime, we all need to get some sleep so we can give everything we've got to gettting Frank back and putting these guys out of business," Phil stated.  
  
"But what is their business?" Chet asked.  
  
"Well, we know whoever is behind this is doing it for free labor," Phil said. "We just need to find out what they were digging for and maybe who owns the land they were digging on."  
  
Joe's eyelids began to droop and the others left him to get some sleep. It was almost dusk when Joe awoke. He got out of bed and began looking for the map he had drawn. If he could locate the area he had been in on the homemade map, perhaps he could find out who owned the land Frank and the others had been digging on.  
  
He finally gave up and got showered and changed. He headed downstairs where the other boys were gathered in the small living room. "Have any of you seen the map I had?" he asked.  
  
None of them had, but Phil offered Joe the one he had and Joe sketched in the area he went to last night. "They may have been digging on a neighboring plantation but it looks like they came from somewhere on this one," Phil commented, looking at the features Joe added.  
  
"You think Duvalier is involved after all?" Chet asked, lifting an eyebrow in question.  
  
"I don't know," Joe admitted. "But I do know we are going to find out one way or another before this evening is over."  
  
The four boys left the guest house and headed to the manor. Dr. Duvalier wanted to wait until after dinner to discuss the matter, but neither the Hardys or their friends were down with that idea. As soon as the group had assembled at the table, Mr. Hardy asked Duvalier to tell them what he knew about Frank's disappearance.  
  
"The people here practice voodoo," Dr. Duvalier began only to be interuppted by an impatient Joe.  
  
"We know that," Joe said. "Chet and I saw one of their rituals and we saw the...the zombies."  
  
"Right, well, a poison is used to kill.." Dr. Duvalier started but was once again interuppted by Joe.  
  
"But it doesn't kill them, does it?" Joe demanded, anger in his voice. "You knew this poison was out there and yet you let us believe Frank was dead."  
  
"He is!" Dr. Duvalier snapped. "For all intents and purposes, Frank is dead. The poison basically puts the system in suspended animation and when it wears off, the victim has no control over himself."  
  
"Is the control taken away by the same poison which causes the system to shut down, or is there another poison?" Phil asked.  
  
"It has been theorized that the poison used on Joe earlier can be used to confuse a victim for an indefinite period of time," Dr. Duvalier replied. "However, no one knows how much to give the victim. Too much can kill and the continued use, also theorized, could cause a complete mental breakdown."  
  
"So a diluted version, maybe just a sip every twenty-four hours, wouldn't necessarily kill a person," Joe stated.  
  
"Not right away at any rate," concurred Dr. Duvalier. "But over time, it could kill or at least permanently cause brain damage." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"Why didn't you tell us?" Joe screamed at Dr. Duvalier. "We could have gotten him some help."  
  
"No, you couldn't," Dr. Duvalier told him, trying to be patient. "Doctors don't know how to reverse the effects of the poison yet and the voodoo priests aren't talking. If you had taken Frank, he would have remained a vegetable forever."  
  
"Isn't that better than being a zombie?" Chet asked.  
  
Joe looked at Chet, then bowed his head thoughtfully. Would it be better to know everything that went on around you and not be able to participate or would it be better to not have any idea what was happening and threfore, not care too?  
  
"I don't get why Frank was given the poison in the first place," Biff said.  
  
"The clearing!" Joe shouted, sitting up straight in his chair.  
  
"What?" Phil demanded, wondering if Joe's earlier encounter still clouded his brain.  
  
"When Frank never came back, I followed his tracks. They stopped at a clearing which wasn't on the path, then returned to the path," Joe explained. "Maybe he saw something or someone he shouldn't have."  
  
"Maybe he saw the same two guys you saw earlier," Phil commented.  
  
"Oh?" Mr. Hardy asked, looking at his son questioningly. Joe related what he had told his friends earlier at the guest house.  
  
"Obviously, in order to find Frank, we have to find the men Joe saw," Mr. Hardy said when Joe had finished.  
  
"Or, we can find him by following the drums tonight," Joe stated, a determined look in his eyes.  
  
"Good idea," Mr. Hardy approved, picking up his fork. "We'll leave about nine tonight and take up positions near where Chet and Joe were earlier. But," he stressed. "No one goes off on their own." he stared meaningfully at Joe as he said this.  
  
"Agreed," Joe said at once, willing to do whatever was nesecarry to get his brother back.  
  
Later, everyone paired up. Mr. Hardy would go with Phil; Dr. Duvalier with Chet; and Biff was to accompany Joe. Dr. Duvalier brought out a topographical map of the area and Joe pointed out the route he had taken the previous evening.  
  
Mrs. Duvalier kissed her husband goodbye, then watched the group leave, worry etched into her wan face.  
  
Each group took a different section to cover. Midnight came and went, still, no drums were heard. Joe glanced at his watch. Two more minutes had elasped since last he had glanced at it. "They probably moved to another part of the plantation," Joe whispered to Biff.  
  
"So, what do we do?" Biff whispered back.  
  
"We have to meet dad and the others at the guest house at two," Joe said, again looking at his watch. "That means we have a little over an hour to snoop around."  
  
"Lead on, my captain," Biff kidded.  
  
The two moved off in the direction of the area where Joe had seen the zombies digging. After about ten minutes, the boys heard a scream from their left. They honed in on the sound and took off as qucikly and quietly as they could. Soon, another scream sounded. The boys changed direction and went in search of the screamer.  
  
At least eight more scremas where heard, each scream leading the two boys in a different direction. Finally, all was in silence. Joe stopped moving and held up a hand for Biff to do likewise.   
  
"What was that all about?" Biff asked when Joe lowered his hand and turned to face him.  
  
"A diversion," Joe replied in disgust. "And we fell for it. We must have been too close and were spotted."  
  
"Then let's just turn right around and go back," Biff asserted, his anger coming out as he tightened his fist causing his arms to muscle up.  
  
"Back where?" Joe asked, a frown on his face. "We changed directions so many times, I don't even know how to get back to the guest house."  
  
"Where are they?" growled Mr. Hardy, looking at the clock on the mantle. "They are an hour late."  
  
"We should go look for them," Chet declared.  
  
"You would only get lost in the dark," Dr. Duvalier told him. "We must wait for morning," he decided. "Then I will get some men and we will search the plantation."  
  
"But what if something has happened to them?" Phil argued.  
  
"Galen is right," Mr. Hardy said, intervening. "If we go looking for them now, we might get lost and that would help no one."  
  
"But what if they use that poison on Biff and Joe that they used on Frank?" Chet refused to let the matter drop.  
  
"Then it is already too late to be of assistance to them," Dr. Duvalier answered, missing the pained expression on Mr. Hardy's face.  
  
"Get some rest," Mr. Hardy ordered the boys, preparing to return to the manor with Dr. Duvalier. "We'll start a search at first light."  
  
Chet closed the door after the two men had left, wondering if he should lock it. He locked the door after deciding to sleep in the living room on the couch. If Joe or Biff returned, he would be able to hear them.  
  
"Want a sandwich before we turn in?" Phil asked, not wanting to go to bed because he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.  
  
Chet shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he replied, sitting down on the sofa and staring glumly at the coffee table in front of him. Phil kicked his shoes off and sat down beside Chet. As the night wore on, both boys fell asleep.  
  
A heavy pounding sounded at the door. Phil jerked awake, his eyes taking in the light from the side window. "Wake up, Chet," Phil said, getting to his feet. "It's time to find Joe and Biff," he added, reaching for the lock.  
  
Phil unlocked the door and twisted the knob, turning as he did so to return to the sofa. He sat down and picked up one shoe, not looking up. "Where do we start?" he asked, slipping the shoe on.  
  
Joe exchanged an amused glance with Biff, but didn't answer.  
  
"Where...." Chet's voice trailed off as he saw who had arrived. "Joe! Biff!" he exclaimed in relieved surprise.  
  
"What happened? Where were you two? Have you been to the manor yet?" Phil erupted, looking up from his task at Chet's shout.   
  
Joe shook his head. "Let's all go to the manor now," he suggested. "We'll tell you what happened and..." he added, his eyes twinkling, "where Frank is." 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The boys arrived at the manor just as Dr. Duvalier was about to instruct his men to search. Mr. Hardy hurriedly made his way over and pulled Joe into a bear hug. Releasing him, he shook Biff's proffered hand, then pulled him closer and gave him a quick hug as well.  
  
Dr. Duvalier told his men the search was off and thanked them. Most cast furtive glances at the two boys who had been missing before departing.  
  
"You get the feeling most of the people here know what's going on?" Phil asked Joe in a quiet voice.  
  
Joe nodded. "But I don't think they know more than their Bokur wants them too," he added.  
  
"What happened? Where were you two?" Mr. Hardy asked once they had all gathered in the living room of the manor.  
  
Joe told them about the screams and getting lost. "Joe suggested we sit and wait for the sun," Biff took over when Joe quit speaking. "When he saw which way it was rising, he led us back to the guest house."  
  
"Well done," Phil congratulated Joe. "Now, where is Frank?" he demanded, remembering Joe's earlier remark.  
  
"Frank and the others are in a cave," Joe answered.  
  
"That's not possible," Mrs. Duvalier told him. "Those caves remain underwater except at low tide."  
  
"Which would give them time to leave the cave and then return at the next one," Joe said. "If the cave goes back far enough, they would be okay until the water went down again."  
  
"None of those caves are that deep," Mrs. Duvalier informed Joe.  
  
"Have you been in them?" Joe asked her. "All of them?"  
  
"I've only seen two caves down there," she answered. "And neither are very deep."  
  
"Maybe the entire entrance is covered up except at low tide," Chet suggested.  
  
"It's worth checking," Mr. Hardy agreed.  
  
"I don't suppose you have any SCUBA gear?" Joe asked Dr. Duvalier.  
  
"As a matter of fact, Marla and I are avid divers," he replied. "You're more than welcome to use our equipment."  
  
"Let's go then," Joe said, standing up.   
  
"No," Mr. Hardy stopped him short. "You and Biff have been up all night and the rest of us haven't had much sleep either," he explained. "It would be far too easy to be overcome by the Rapture of the Deep in our present condition. If your theory is correct, Frank and the others won't be going anywhere this morning," he continued. "Let's all get a few hours sleep and then we will tackle the caves."  
  
Frustrated at the delay, but recognizing the wisdom behind his father's words, Joe caved in. He and the other guys returned to the guest house, where, after a light breakfast, all four went to bed.  
  
Six hours later, Joe switched off his alarm clock, showered, dressed and roused the other boys.  
  
"I've been thinking," Mr. Hardy said when the boys arrived at the manor. "There has to be another way into the cave, if that is where they are, because there might come a time when whoever is behind this must need to send the zombies out of sight at a moment's notice."  
  
"I disagree," Joe said, shaking his head. "The locals seem terrified of whoever is behind this. Even the Duvaliers were afraid." He looked over to where the two sat, shame-faced at their cowardice. "No offense," he added.  
  
"You are right," Dr. Duvalier concurred with Joe. "The people are too afraid to explore the area and should anyone see anything, they would not speak of it for fear of being turned into one of the undead."  
  
"Who is diving?" Mr. Hardy asked, accepting their argument.  
  
"Chet should go with Joe," Phil said. "They have the most diving experience."  
  
"Agreed," Biff stated. "And we can be topside watching out for any trouble."  
  
"What about you?" Joe asked his dad.  
  
"I'm going to brave the roads and see if I can get us any help," Mr. Hardy said. "Our finding Frank won't put a stop to this mess and if we don't have some authority behind us, even finding out who is responsible won't help."  
  
The boys obtained the gear and checked it out to make sure the tanks were full and everything was functioning properly. It was almost an hour later before Joe and Chet wadded into the water and disappeared from view.  
  
In order to keep in contact, Joe and Chet were connected by a nylon cord. Should one find something or get into trouble, a tug on the cord would alert the diving mate. This would also allow them to explore more territory in the limited time they had available.  
  
They hadn't been under long when Joe spied an opening in the rocks. He cautiously approached the opening, expecting an eel to pop out at him. However, no creature, save for a few small fish, approached him from the opening.  
  
Joe tugged on the cord and Chet appeared almost at once. Joe pointed toward the opening. Chet nodded and followed Joe inside.  
  
What began as narrow soon opened up and Joe and Chet found themselves swiming perpendicular. In minutes, the underwater cavern ended and they stood knee deep in water.   
  
"Looks like you were right," Chet whispered into Joe's ear after they had removed their masks and regulators.  
  
Joe gave a curt nod and the two made their way stealthily deeper into the cave. Water gave way to hard ground and Joe hoped their footprints would evaporate before anyone arrived to claim their undead.  
  
Joe had already realized that it would be impossible to remove even half of the people he had seen two evenings ago. They would have to be rescued at low tide or while they were working. But, and Joe was adamant on this, he was not leaving without his brother. Even if it meant staying behind and letting Chet return to the surface alone.  
  
They moved forward in the darkness, the only light visible were the beams from the small waterproof flashlights the boys held. Joe took another step, his light hitting the stone wall a mere twenty feet ahead. His foot came down on something soft. Joe gasped in surprise and stepped back, crashing into Chet who steadied him before he could fall.  
  
Joe pointed his light down. A mass of bodies littered the stone floor. Chet moved his light around. The cave which ended not too far ahead, expanded in both an easterly and westerly direction.  
  
"There are at least forty people in here," Chet whispered in awe.  
  
"Let's find Frank," Joe ordered. The two moved around the helpless victims, careful not to step or trip over anyone.  
  
"Over here," Chet hissed. It was obvious they were the only conscious people there, but being in a cave full of zombies was still a bit much for Chet.  
  
Joe hurried over to Chet's side and knelt down by his brother, who looked wan and malnourished. He felt the pulse at Frank's neck. "He has a pulse," Joe said, looking up at Chet. "Which means, at least the poison used on him originally has worn off or was taken out of his system somehow."  
  
"How are going to get him out of here?" Chet asked.  
  
"We'll put a tank on him and you and I can buddy-breathe on the other," Joe answered after a moment's thought. "We'll have to keep him between us."  
  
"We going to tie him to us?" Chet wanted to know.  
  
"No," Joe replied with a shake of his head. "I think we're better off without the cord now that we've found what we were looking for." Joe untied the cord from his waist and Chet did likewise, rolling the cord up and securing it to his waist.  
  
Joe lifted Frank's shoulders up, then stood. He and Chet each took an arm and pulled Frank tp his feet. They made their way back to where they had left their tanks and put one on Frank. Chet put the other tank on and they entered the water with Joe taking a deep breath before sinking into the water.  
  
It occurred to Joe that there must be some type of opening above ground for the air not to be stale. This fact was stored for later use as Joe gave his full attention to the task at hand.  
  
Several times Chet let Joe take a breath from the regulator. The air in his tank was almost gone, but he was sure there was enough to get to the surface. He took a deep breath, then passed it, once again, over to Joe.  
  
Joe took the regulator and breathed in more oxygen. He handed it back to Chet, never releasing his grip on Frank. As Chet took the regulator, he saw Joe's eyes widen behind his mask. Chet turned his head and saw two large blue sharks swimming right at them! 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Being experienced divers, Joe and Chet knew the best thing to do under the circumstances was to stay still. They held Frank as steady as they could and watched in terrified silence as the two creatures approached.  
  
As the sharks neared, a school of fish swam in front of them heading in an westernly direction. The sharks turned sharply and followed. The boys continued to the surface. When they broke the water, Joe gulped in fresh air while Chet looked around for Biff and Phil.  
  
"You got him!" shouted Biff enthusiastically when he saw the trio. Biff and Phil, already stripped down to swim trunks, dove in and took over the task of getting Frank to land. Joe and Chet, totally exhausted, followed at a slower pace.  
  
"He's out of it," Biff said, as Joe and Chet sank to their knees on the sand.  
  
Joe nodded, but waited a minute before responding. "We need to get him to the manor," he said. "Maybe the Duvaliers can cure this poison. They did when it was used on me."  
  
By the time they reached the manor, Mr. Hardy had returned. Joe filled his dad and the Duvaliers in on the rescue, ending with the fresh air he had inhaled.  
  
"Can you help him?" Mr. Hardy asked his friend as he sat beside Frank on the bed, looking into his eyes with a penlight.  
  
Dr. Duvalier looked up at Mr. Hardy, his eyes holding compassion. "The poison is throughout his system," he replied. "We could give him the antidote Joe was given, but the leeches were a vital part of the treatment. They won't be able to help Frank."  
  
"Isn't there another antidote?" Phil inquired. "Maybe something stronger than what you used on Joe?"  
  
"There are rumors," Mrs. Duvalier stated.  
  
"But we really don't know," Dr. Duvalier added.  
  
"Who would know?" Chet asked.  
  
"Perhaps some of the locals," Dr. Duvalier answered.  
  
"But we can't trust any of them," Biff said, scowling.  
  
"Not on this plantation, anyway," Joe interjected thoughtfully. "Jima and his mom and brothers moved here after Jima's dad died," Joe continued. "But his mother's family are natives."  
  
"You boys go see Jima," Mr. Hardy said. "See if they, or someone they know, can help. I'll stay with Frank."  
  
"You can use the truck," Dr. Duvalier told them, fishing a set of keys from his pants pocket. "You probably won't meet many people on the road between here and the next plantation. But be careful, anyway," he added.  
  
"We will," Joe promised as Biff took the keys.  
  
After making a quick stop at the guest house to change out of their swim trunks, the boys climbed into the truck with Biff driving, Joe in the passenger seat and Chet and Phil sat in the back. It wasn't long before the foursome arrived at Jima's.  
  
Joe knocked on the door and a dark-skinned lady with long, silky black hair opened the door. She looked curiously at the boys.  
  
"Hello, Ma'am," Joe greeted the woman. "My name is Joe Hardy. I met Jima on the plane."  
  
"My son spoke of you," the woman greeted Joe with a warm smile. "I am Cara Demonet, Jima's mother. Please, come inside," she invited.  
  
The boys were escorted inside and into the living room. "Please, sit down. I will retrieve Jima," she said, leaving the room.  
  
Mrs. Demonet returned in a few minutes with Jima. "Joe!" Jima exclaimed gaily, his eyes lighting up as he smiled. "I'm glad you could come."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said, returning the smile, although somewhat strained. "These are my friends," he added, introducing the other boys.  
  
"I am very pleased to meet you," Jima said. "But you appear troubled. Have you not found your brother's corpse?"  
  
"We found him," Joe informed Jima. "About half an hour ago."  
  
"And he isn't a corpse," Chet put in. "He's a zombie."  
  
"I am sorry, my friend," Jima said, placing a consoling arm around Joe's shoulders.  
  
"Do you know anyone who could cure him?" Joe asked, his blue eyes pleading.  
  
Jima looked at the desperation in Joe's eyes. "One moment," he replied, leaving the room.  
  
The boys waited anxiously. Joe stayed where Jima had left him and Chet remained seated on the sofa. Biff went to the window to look out and Phil went to Joe's side and stood in silence. When Jima returned, he was accompanied by his mother and an older woman whom Joe took to be Jima's grandmother because of the strong resemblance.  
  
"This is my grandmother, Dora," Jima introduced the woman to the boys. "She is a mambo," he continued. "A priestess," he added in explanation.  
  
Joe looked into the old woman's gray eyes. "Can you help my brother?" he asked her.  
  
"I have the knowledge," she admitted in stitlted English. "But the magic your brother is under is powerful. The Bokur who does this to our people is evil and to be feared. He will seek vengeance upon those who defy him," she added, watching his face closely. "He will seek to destroy you."  
  
"Frank's my brother," Joe replied, his words simple, his face honest. "I would gladly trade places with him."  
  
"Your feelings are true," Dora observed approvingly. "I will help your brother."  
  
"Thank you," Joe whispered, his eyes tearing up.  
  
"You must bring him here," Dora instructed.  
  
"Thank you," Joe said again. He turned to Phil. "You guys go and get Frank," he ordered. "Dad too. I'm going to talk to Jima and see if he knows any of what has been going on around here."  
  
Dora and Cara left the room to begin the preperations. Phil , Biff, and Chet left for the Duvalier plantation and Joe and Jima sat down in the living room.  
  
Joe told Jima about the two men he had seen in the woods and about his being poisoned.  
  
"You must have seen the Bokur," Jima told Joe. "I have heard Jojje is small in stature but he is a very powerful man. You are most lucky to be alive after the encounter. It is too bad you did not get a good look at the other man," Jima continued. "You would have a better chance of having him punished for the crime."  
  
"You mean the Bokur can get away with this?" Joe demanded, his eyes flaring angrily.  
  
"Calm down, my friend," Jima soothed Joe. "The Bokur is feared by all. There are none who would help you to bring him to justice even though we do have laws forbidding the enslavement of people by the use of magic."  
  
Jima stood up. "Come," he ordered, as Joe stood. "I will show you around the plantation."  
  
"Thanks," Joe replied with a smile. "I'd like that."  
  
After several minutes of walking, the two arrived at a large barn. There, three men were standing together, talking. "Joe, I would like you to meet my three brothers. This is Kreg, the eldest, and Anthony is next in line, then Milan. I come next and then there is Jayto, he is staying with a friend for a few days," Jima made the introductions. "Guys, this is Joe Hardy. He is staying at the Duvalier's."  
  
"Nice to meet you," Joe said, shaking Milan's hand.  
  
"And you," Milan responded with a smile. "I must be off," he added. "Duty calls."  
  
"Milan is in charge if our livestock," Jima explained. Joe's eyes widened questioningly. "We have some goats and chickens," Jima explained. "No cattle," he added, laughing.  
  
Anthony shook Joe's hand. "I must go as well," he said. "I have much to do before nightfall. I am in charge of the harvest this year."  
  
"And what are you in charge of?" Joe asked Kreg, trying to draw the solem, dark-haired man into conversation.  
  
Kreg gave Joe a hard look. "Everything," he replied before turning and stalking off.  
  
"Did I strike a nerve?" Joe asked Jima, cocking his head to one side.  
  
"Kreg has been like that since dad died," Jima answered. "But he is always there if we need him. I think he just needs to relax a bit."  
  
Joe was saved from a response by the arrival of the truck driven by Dr. Duvalier. Phil sat in the passenger seat while Chet and Biff were in the back helping Mr. Hardy with Frank.  
  
Joe and Jima rushed over to the truck and helped get Frank down and into the house. Cara led them through the house and into the back yard. They lowered Frank to the ground as directed, and Dora began chanting and dancing around Frank, sprinkling flower petals around his body.  
  
When a petal fell onto his face, she stopped her chants and gyrations and took the errant petal. She dipped it into a wooden bowl filled with liquid until the petal had become saturated. She then removed the petal and placed it beneath Frank's tongue, once again, chanting.  
  
When she quit speaking, her eyes sought out Joe's and she bade him to kneel beside her. "Your bond is great," she said. "You must sacrifice of yourself to allow your brother to return to the living." 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

All eyes focused on Dora. Had she just asked Joe to sacrifice himself?  
  
"No!" declared Mr. Hardy, moving toward them.  
  
"Anything," Joe agreed, ignoring his father. Jima and Cora took Mr. Hardy's arms and pulled him back.  
  
"It's okay," Cora whispered, trying to calm the worried father.  
  
Dora removed a knife from her skirt. "A small cut," she instructed. "Then let your blood, your essence, spill onto his lips."  
  
Joe didn't believe in this mumbo jumbo, but he would try anything to have his brother back to normal. He brought the blade to his arm, wincing as it pierced his skin and blood began to seep out. He held his arm over Frank's face and let the blood drop to his lips as Dora stood and, once again, began chanting and dancing.  
  
Minutes passed and Joe, bleeding already stopped, lowered his arm. Dora's voice became louder and louder and her movements more erratic.  
  
All eyes were on Dora as she danced around the two brothers. A low moan, unheard by all but Joe, caused him to look down. "Frank!" Joe cried out. Dora fell to the ground as Jima and Cora restrained the others from rushing over.  
  
Frank moved his head, his lips moving, a bare whisper coming out. Tears fell from Joe's eyes as he pushed the hair from his brother's forehead. "It's okay, bro," Joe told him. "You're safe now."  
  
Frank began trembling and Dora stood up, shouting orders to her daughter and grandson.  
  
Jima and his mom left, returning with a blanket and some water. Mr. Hardy helped Jima wrap Frank in the blanket, then held him tight as Cora held the cup of water to Frank's lips.  
  
Frank was carried inside and placed on the sofa, then Cora left to get a first aid kit. When she returned, she cleaned and bandaged Joe's arm.  
  
Dora left the group, returning to her bedroom to rest "Thank you," Mr. Hardy told her before she left.  
  
"Be careful," she warned. "As long as you remain in Haiti, you, your family, and friends," she added, looking around, "are in danger."  
  
Cora escorted her mother to her room then went to make some tea. When she returned, she brought Frank a steaming cup.  
  
"Gently," she told him, making sure he did no more than sip.  
  
By the time Frank finished the tea he had ceased trembling and was aware of his surroundings.  
  
"Welcome back, brother," Joe told him, a relieved smile on his weary face. "You gave me enough scares to last ten lifetimes," he added, ruffling Frank's dirty hair.  
  
Frank smiled wanly, his eyes heavy. "S....s....so....sorry," he stuttered softly.  
  
"He must rest before he journeys back to the Duvalier plantation," Cora stated. "If you gentlemen would carry him, I will put him in Jima's room," she said to Mr. Hardy and Dr. Duvalier, who readily agreed and lifted Frank off the sofa.   
  
"We'll be outside," Jima told his mother as she walked past him.  
  
"That would be best," she agreed. "Frank needs quiet."  
  
Jima, Joe and the others left the house. They discussed the cave, the screams, and the digging.  
  
"And they were digging on our plantation?" Jima demanded, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "But why?" he asked. "We would never use this type of labor."  
  
"Jima, your brother, Kreg, said he was in charge of everything," Joe said, trying to phrase the question he wanted to ask without making Jima mad. "Do you think he suspects someone of this type of thing?"  
  
"Or maybe he has come across an area which has been worked but wasn't supposed to be?" Phil added to Joe's question, also careful of his wording.  
  
"My brother would never allow such activities to continue," Jima stated at once. "But then, he would not accuse someone without proof, either." He looked Joe in the eyes. "It is possible he may have seen or heard something. I will talk to him."  
  
"Can we talk to him?" Chet piped up.  
  
"Not this time," Jima replied appologetically. "Kreg is a private person. He would tell me if he suspected something was going on but he would not say anything if you were there."  
  
"Is it okay if we look around while you talk to Kreg?" Joe asked.  
  
"Of course," Jima agreed at once. "Just do not get lost," he added.   
  
"We can cover more ground if we seperate," Joe said. "Kreg could be involved and if so, I doubt he'll tell Jima anything."  
  
"You trust Jima?" Phil asked.  
  
"Yes," Joe agreed at once. "If it weren't for him, we never would have thought about searching for Frank....just his corpse."  
  
"And he wouldn't have said anything if he had been involved," Biff picked up on Joe's thinking.  
  
"But what if he had no idea before he came home but found out after he arrived?" Phil asked, trying to cover all the angles.  
  
"Then why help us get Frank better?" Joe asked.  
  
No one had an answer, so the four split up, agreeing to meet back at his house in an hour.  
  
Joe headed toward the barn. The doors were open and Joe slipped inside. It was an old barn. Instead of horses and cows, this barn held field instruments and a tractor. Joe nosed around a bit. He was on his way out when he tripped over a shovel lying on the ground. Before he could stand, he heard voices heading his way. He obtained a squating position and peered around the tractor.  
  
Joe watched the two men as they neared. Joe recognized Anthony at once. He seemed to be giving orders. Joe did not recognize the other man but decided to follow him if he could.  
  
A few more words and Anthony left. The other man followed and Joe trailed a few feet behind. Anthony took off for the house while the man Joe followed, walked into the woods.  
  
The boys headed back to the house and met Jima and his brothers there. Jima made the introductions then asked, "Where's Joe?"  
  
"He was supposed to meet us here," Phil answered, concern creeping into his voice.  
  
"He's only a few minutes late," Biff said, looking at his watch.  
  
"Jima, why don't you show your friends the house while you wait for Joe?" Anthony suggested.  
  
"An excellent idea," Jima agreed. "Just keep quiet so we don't disturb Frank or your grandmother, he cautioned his American friends.  
  
As soon as Jima and the others began their tour, Jima's brothers left to tend to their various duties. Anthony stopped in the kitchen and picked up the phone. A few minutes later, he left the house, whistling.  
  
Joe followed the man to a small shack almost a mile from the house. He knelt behind some bushes and watched as the man knocked, then entered.  
  
Wanting to see what was going on, Joe crept closer to the shack. Seeing no one watching, he took up position at the only visible window and peered inside.  
  
Joe saw the man he had been following sitting at a small table. A cup sat on the table across from him but there was no one else in the room.  
  
"Must have gone into the back," Joe thought right before a thousand firecrackers exploded in his head. 


	17. Chapter 17

"Joe's over an hour late," Chet said after the boys had returned to the living room. They had spent almost half an hour looking at the house, then gone outside to view the garden. "We need to look for him," he added as Kreg entered the room.  
  
"Joe has not returned?" he demanded, looking at Jima who shook his head.  
  
"We better look for him," Biff repeated Chet's earlier statement.  
  
"No," Kreg told the boys. "We will search for him. It is growing dark and you might get lost as well. Come," he ordered Jima, leaving the room.  
  
"We will find him," Jima said confidently, following his brother from the room.  
  
Two hours later, Joe still had not been found. "We'll look for him tomorrow," Mr. Hardy told the boys who looked at him mutinously.  
  
"We will keep searching," Kreg promised their guests. "But you must wait for daylight."   
  
"We need to get Frank back to the manor," Mr. Hardy told them.  
  
"You're right, of course," Phil said, speaking for the others as well as himself.  
  
"If Joe returns, we will call you," Jima promised them as they made their way up to Frank's room.  
  
They lifted Frank and took him to the truck. Mr. Hardy thanked the Jima and his family profusely for their help, then climbed into the back with Frank, Chet and Biff. Arriving at the manor, they took Frank inside and back to the room he had been in earlier.  
  
"Are you certain he is okay?" Mrs. Duvalier questioned, seeing how still Frank remained.  
  
"Just exhausted and in a bit of shock," her husband assured her.  
  
"Where is Joe?" she asked, looking around and not seeing him. Dr. Duvalier led her out of Frank's room, explaining what had happened since his departure earlier.  
  
"Will you boys stay here while I call Laura?" Mr. Hardy asked after the two had left the room.  
  
"Sure," Chet and Biff said at once.  
  
"Are you going to tell her about Joe?" Phil asked.  
  
"Not until we know something," Mr. Hardy answered, not looking at any of the boys. If he looked at their worried faces, he would sucumb to the feelings he was trying so desperately to keep in check.  
  
After Mr. Hardy returned, he sent the boys to the guest house. "Get some rest," he ordered them. "There isn't any more we can do tonight."  
  
At the guest house, Chet made dinner while the other two boys set the table. "We can't just do nothing," Biff said, sitting down.  
  
"We won't", Phil promised, sitting down in the chair to Biff's left. "Tomorrow morning, Chet will take Mr. Hardy to the cave. The Duvaliers can watch Frank and you and I can start looking for Joe."  
  
"Mr. Hardy's losing it," Chet commented, bringing over two dishes and setting them on the table.  
  
"Can you blame him?" Phil demanded. "First, he thinks his eldest son is dead, then a zombie. He gets Frank back and now Joe may never be seen again."  
  
"Don't say things like that!" Chet snapped, returning to the stove for a bowl of mixed vegetables.  
  
"We're going to find Joe and get out of this place," Biff declared with a slight shudder at the thought of where they were in the world. "I don't care if we don't get the bad guys this time. Just as long as we all get out of this place safely."  
  
****************************************************************  
  
"J...J...Joe." Frank emitted the cry, his head moving back and forth as the drums, which had been quiet the previous evening, began their normal rythm. "J...J...Joe!" Frank screamed louder.  
  
"Easy son," Mr. Hardy said, moving closer to Frank and holding his hand. "It's alright."  
  
"W...wh...where's J..J...Joe?" Frank demanded, his fearful brown eyes looking into his fathers.  
  
"He's at the guest house with Biff, Chet, and Phil," he lied. "They were exhausted and I made them go get some rest."  
  
Mrs Duvalier, having heard Frank screaming for Joe, came into the room, a glass in her hand. "Have him drink this," she said to Mr. Hardy. "It will help him to rest."  
  
"Thank you," Mr. Hardy said, taking the glass and holding it up to Frank's lips. Frank drank the contents, then lay back and closed his eyes. In minutes, he was in a dreamless sleep.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
"Wh...where's Joe?" Frank asked the next morning when he awoke, seeing his dad, the Duvaliers and Chet, Biff and Phil standing around his bedside.  
  
All heads turned to Mr. Hardy. "What is it...?" Frank demanded sitting up in alarm. "What's wrong? Wh...where is he?"  
  
"Easy, son," Mr. Hardy ordered, gently pushing Frank back onto the bed and sitting down beside him. "Joe's missing," he broke the news as gently as he could.  
  
Frank tried to sit back up but his father held him down. "Wh...when?" Frank demanded, his speech still hampered by the drugs he had been given.  
  
"Yesterday," Phil spoke up. "After the, um, ceremony. Joe just vanished."  
  
"Yo....you said he w....was tired and in the gu..guest house with the r...rest," Frank looked at his father with accusing eyes.  
  
"You were too weak to be told the truth last night," Mr. Hardy asserted. "And we hoped Joe had just been following a lead and would return."  
  
"Wh...where d...did he disap...pp..pear from?" Frank stuttered. His brain functioning properly despite the horror he had lived through.  
  
"The plantation next to this one," Mr. Hardy answered. Frank looked at his father so Mr. Hardy explained that was where Frank had been taken to recover from being zombified.  
  
"W...we ha..." Frank began but was cut off by Chet.  
  
"We will find him," Chet vowed. "You just rest and get better."  
  
Frank shook his head and was going to reply but Phil spoke up before he could say anything. "Chet's right," he insisted. "You need to rest. If we can't find Joe you're going to need to be at full strength to help."  
  
Frank wanted to argue, but couldn't. Phil was right. If he was going to be of any help to Joe, he was going to have to get over the lethargy he was feeling. His entire body hurt, especially his head. He wanted to sleep but when he tried, he kept having the same nightmare. He kept seeing stars in the night sky and then he felt the dirt begin to weigh him down.  
  
Frank frowned. He didn't want to admit he was afraid to go to sleep, at least, not to anyone but Joe. Joe had always been the one Frank turned to when he was scared. As kids, Joe had been the brave one, ready to fight any monster which might slip out of the darkness. When Mrs. Hardy had turned off all the lights and left the boys room for the night, it was Joe who would crawl out of bed and turn on a lamp while Frank lay still beneath the covers, eyes wide as he stared at the shadows moving by the window.  
  
Frank needed Joe now but Joe, it seemed, needed him more. Frank closed his eyes, trying hard not to think of the darkness as it began to surround him, but of seeing his brother, alive and well, smiling at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Joe struggled with the ropes which bound him but to no avail. His wrists were completely raw and bleeding. Joe slumped and closed his eyes. 'How was he going to get out of this one?' he wondered. He shook his head and began working on freeing himself once more.  
  
Half an hour later, Joe was still working on the ropes around his wrists. They had loosed a bit but Joe thought this was more from the lubrication his blood provided than from his effort at straining the rope. Joe froze as he heard footsteps approaching. He only hoped his captor would not check to see if he had made any progress in escaping.   
  
The steps stopped briefly as the door opened. A short man was framed in the doorway briefly. He said a few words, pointing to first the north, then south then east to west, before entering the room.  
  
Joe shot the man a peculiar look for had the motions been carried out upon the man's short chest, the sign of the cross would have been made the way a Catholic would when kneeling before a cross.  
  
Another man followed the shorter one inside. Joe's eyes widened. He knew some of the workers on the Jima's plantation were involved, but was shocked to find out Milan was involved. Joe thought if anyone had been involved it would have been Kreg or Anthony. Were all of Jima's brothers involved after all? What about Jima? Was he, too, involved? 


	18. Chapter 18

"Why?" Joe demanded angrily, glaring up at Milan. "What kind of monster are you?"  
  
"Silence!" added the small man. "Or you shall meet the same fate as your brother."  
  
"How did you know he was my brother?" Joe demanded, his eyes narrowing on the small man.  
  
"I know much," the Bokur informed Joe haughtily. "And that which I know not, is not worth knowing."  
  
"Then I guess you know you're fried," Joe retorted. "The moment you hurt my brother was the beginning of your end." The Bokur's gaze burned into Joe's and Joe turned away. "How could you?" he asked Milan again. "There are kids!" Joe snapped.  
  
"I didn't do it to them," Milan argued.  
  
"But you know and you're doing nothing to stop it," Joe pointed out.  
  
"Lots of people know," Milan informed Joe. "Even their families."  
  
"Maybe," Joe conceeded. "But you're originally from the states. You know there's more to it than magic."  
  
The Bokur growled and stepped toward Joe, his hand going for the pouch of powder which hung at his waist.  
  
"Please, no?" begged Milan. The Bokur rounded on him. "It....it might be better to keep Joe alive for now. We....we might need to use him as a hostage later."  
  
The Bokur seemed to think the matter over then turned and with one fluid movement reached into the pouch and pulled out some powder. He blew it into Joe's face.  
  
Joe froze for a brief second then fell sideways, hands now visible along with the bloodied rope.  
  
The Bokur turned to Milan. "Now, he lives but will not be a problem."  
  
Milan remained as the Bokur departed. He untied Joe and carried him into another room, one which was dark and smelled heavily of incense. "I'm sorry," he told Joe, lying him on a hard surface. Milan returned to the door then turned and looked at the still youth once before leaving.  
  
Joe lay still, unable to move, wondering what was going to happen next. Imagining Frank's fear at being declared dead. Knowing, without a doubt, his brother had undergone the most traumatic experience of his life....alone.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Mr. Hardy followed the boys out of Frank's room, leaving him to rest.  
  
"Mr. Hardy, about the cave," Phil began. "Chet will show you where it is while Biff and I look for Joe."  
  
"Good idea," Mr. Hardy agreed. "Joe said there was fresh air. We can go in underwater and look for the other entrance from the inside."  
  
After Chet and Mr. Hardy went to get the SCUBA gear, Biff and Phil borrowed the truck and headed towards Jima's plantation.  
  
"Pull over behind that hedge," Phil instructed Biff as they neared the plantation.  
  
"Why?" Biff demanded as he did as ordered.  
  
"Because we don't need to be seen," Phil said. "If one or all of Jima's brothers are involved, we shouldn't announce our arrival. If we follow them, they might lead us to Joe."  
  
Frank sat up in bed, his pulse pounding and his eyes wide. "It's okay," Mrs. Duvalier said, leaving her chair by the window and coming to stand by Frank's bed. "Would you care for some water?" she asked.  
  
"Pl....please," Frank answered leaning back. "Wh...where...."  
  
"They haven't returned yet," she told him. "They haven't been gone long," Mrs. Duvalier added. "Try and get some more rest," she urged him.  
  
"I....I ne....need to g....go t....to...." Frank began.  
  
"The bathroom?" she asked with the lift of a brow. Frank nodded. "I'll get Galen," she told him. "He'll help you." She walked to the door and opened it.  
  
"Galen!" she called, then returned to Frank's side. "Are you hungry?" she asked him.  
  
"A li....little," he replied slowly.  
  
"Good," said Dr. Duvalier smiling. "A liquid diet," he specified, looking at his wife who nodded in agreement before leaving the room.  
  
"If you feel up to it, how about a shower?" Dr. Duvalier asked Frank as he helped him to stand.  
  
"That sounds go....go....good," Frank replied with a smile.  
  
Dr. Duvalier helped Frank into the bathroom, then rounded up some clean pajamas for him. When he returned to the bathroom, Frank had already managed to start the water and removed his clothes.  
  
"I'll leave the door open in case you need anything," Dr. Duvalier told him, then returned to the bedroom to change the sheets.  
  
The seawater had washed most of the dirt off Frank during his rescue but there was enough left to have caked up and dirtied the sheets. Dr. Duvalier smiled as he put on clean ones, imagining how much better Frank would feel after his shower.   
  
The water was shut off and Frank could be heard moving around. By the time he had put on his pajamas, Mrs. Duvalier had returned with a bowl of chicken soup.  
  
"You just hop into bed and eat your soup," she told him. "Then you can take another nap. By the time you wake up, the others should have returned."  
  
Frank, with Dr. Duvalier's arm for support, returned to bed. He gratefully accepted the soup with a smile and sipped the broth. Soon, his eyelids grew heavy. Mrs. Duvalier took the soup away and Frank lay back against his pillow. In seconds, he was sound asleep.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
When Frank next awoke, his father, Chet, Biff and Phil were in the room with him.  
  
"How are you feeling, son?" Mr. Hardy asked.  
  
"Bet....ter," Frank said slowly, but without the stutter. "Where....is....Joe?" he asked, his brown eyes anxious.  
  
"We couldn't find him," Phil said softly. "I followed Kreg all day and Biff tried to keep up with Anthony."  
  
"Tried to?" Chet asked, giving Phil a quizzical look.  
  
"I followed him for about half an hour, then this truck pulled up and some man with two bloodhounds got out," Biff explained. "I tried to stay downwind, but it was no good. Those two treed me in less than five minutes."  
  
"Bloodhounds?" Mr. Hardy asked. "Here?"  
  
"Anthony said, Conna, his friend, raises them. When Joe went missing yesterday, he called Conna and asked him to bring a couple to help find him," Biff informed the group.  
  
"Did they pick up Joe's trail at all?" Chet asked.  
  
"'Yeah," Biff acknowledged. "But right at the border between their plantation and this one, they started acting funny. Conna said someone had burried something which affected the dogs sense of smell. They would be useless for a day or two."  
  
"So Joe could still be on their plantation or he could be on this one." Mr. Hardy stated, frowning.  
  
"What about the cave?" Phil asked. "Did you find the other opening? When are we going to get those people out?"  
  
"We found it," Chet replied grimly. "But it doesn't matter," he added.  
  
"Why not?" Biff demanded.  
  
"Because it was empty," Mr. Hardy answered.  
  
"But it isn't low tide," Phil said.  
  
"Which means, they are being kept somewhere else," Mr. Hardy said.  
  
"Then we have to find the new hiding place," Frank declared, his words coming out slow, but strong. "Joe is probably being held there as well." 


	19. Chapter 19

"Where do we start?" Cet asked, depressed.   
  
"The drums," Phil answered.  
  
"That's right!" Biff exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "They're back."  
  
"Back?" Frank asked, his eyes narrowing on Biff.  
  
"I think it's time we filled Frank in on everything that's been going on," Phil said, looking Mr. Hardy squarely in the eyes.  
  
Mr. Hardy heaved a deep sigh and nodded, then proceeded to explain to Frank, pausing long enough to calm him down when he got to the part about Joe being poisoned.  
  
"I think we should look for Joe where he vanished," Frank said when his dad finished. Frank's words remained slow but his resolve was strong. "Dr. Duvalier will not allow me out tonight, but you can listen for the drums and try to find Joe that way. If you have no luck, we will all go to Jima's tomorrow."  
  
"Good idea," Phil approved. "But, do you think you should be up and about so soon?"  
  
"I'm feeling much better," Frank replied. "But I am hungry," he added with a smile.  
  
"And that is the best news I've heard all evening," Mr. Hardy said, smiling at his son. "I'll see if Marla has dinner ready," he added, standing up and going to the door. He opened the door, then stopped and looked at Frank. "We'll find him," he promised.  
  
"I know," Frank answered, not quite sure.  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
"Okay, no problems tonight," Phil ordered Chet and Biff as they got ready to leave the guest house later that evening. "Neither of the Hardys can take much more stress."  
  
"Agreed," Biff said. "We stick together."  
  
"What if we get lost?" Chet asked, casting a sly look in Biff's direction.  
  
"I have a compass," Phil stated, grinning at Biff too.  
  
"Aw, cut it out," Biff growled, opening the rear door of the guest house. "They've already started. Let's go," he added, leading the way out into the dark night.  
  
"It's darker tonight," Chet whispered, spooked by the eerieness.  
  
Phil looked up. "It's clouding up," he said. "We'd better step on it. If it starts pouring, we may miss it."  
  
The three traveled toward the sound of the drums. Chet realized this ritual was not in the same location as the one he and Joe had attended, but it was obvious to see the ritual was the same.  
  
"Let's follow 'em," Chet whispered to Phil and Biff as the zombies began their trek.  
  
"No," Phil whispered back, his eyes locked on the short man who seemed to be watching the ritual with an air of leadership. "See that guy," Phil whispered, pointing the man out to his friends. "I think he's in charge."  
  
"And you think he may lead us to Joe," Biff said softly.  
  
"Right," Phil agreed. "Joe's following them last time didn't really help anything, so tonight we do something different." They waited until the zombies had left then remained to watch the balance of the ritual.  
  
"Chet, old buddy," Biff whispered, claping Chet on the back. "I'll never doubt anything you say again."  
  
Chet smiled smugly as the beautiful lady from the other night put in an appearance. When the festivities were about to draw to a close, the man whom Phil had kept his eyes on all night left the clearing.  
  
"Keep quiet," Phil ordered as they took off after him. "No talking and watch where you step," he warned, not wanting their prescense to be given away by anything as mundane as a cracked branch.  
  
They followed the man, keeping at least one hundred feet back, for almost an hour. They hid behind the trees and watched as the man entered a small cabin.  
  
"I don't think we're on the Duvalier's land any more," Phil told the others. "Or Jima's either. You two keep watch here," he continued. "I'm going to check it out."  
  
Biff moved closer to the house after Phil had moved on. He wanted to be able to run to Phil's aid if he needed it. Chet remained where he was, ready to go and get Mr. Hardy if necessary.  
  
Phil crept to the house, carefully looking around to see if there was a sentry. He peered in the window. The man was looking thoughtfully at a set of papers. Finally, frowning, he folded the papers and put them in a small chest. He put the chest on the second shelf of a bookcase and headed for the door. Phil quickly moved away from the window and backed into the bushes surrounding the house as the man left the cabin and took off.   
  
After the man disappeared from view, Phil went to the door. It opened easily. 'He is probably the baddest dude in the area,' Phil thought grimly. 'Of course, he doesn't have to lock the place up.'  
  
Phil entered the house and went straight for the small chest. He pulled out the papers. "Great," he moaned, unable to read them. Not wanting to remove the papers in case it would put Joe in more jeopardy, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from the waste can by the table and, using his own pen, copied the first two paragraphs. Dr. Duvalier, he knew, would be able to interpret the words.  
  
Phil put his copy into his pocket, then put the other back in the chest and returned it to the bookshelf. He walked down a narrow hallway and came to a door. He opened it and turned the light on, Phil knew most of the houses in the area operated on generators, electricity being a pricey commodity for this area.  
  
"Joe!" Phil gasped. He had hoped to find Joe, but hadn't really expected to. He rushed over, fear clutching his heart, making it patter faster, feeling not unlike a sneeze which shakes your entire body upon release.  
  
Joe lay still, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling where two large roaches could be seen scurrying away form the light.  
  
Phil touched Joe's chest, his face white. "You're not dead," he said. "You're not dead, you're not dead," he kept repeating, trying hard to convince himself of this fact. "It's what was used on Frank. You're not dead," he said again, tears making a path upon his cheeks.  
  
"I....I'll go get Biff," he told Joe. He took off at a run, wishing Biff had come inside with him. He didn't want to leave Joe alone for a second, but he had no choice. He raced to the door, opened it and stepped outside, ready to yell for Biff.  
  
He froze when he saw four men heading towards the cabin. He thought briefly that he, Biff and Chet could take them, but as they neared, Phil saw they were armed.  
  
Phil closed the door and backed into the bushes. He watched as the four men entered the cabin. After a minute, Phil crept back up to peer in the window. The four men were lounging around. Phil suspected they were waiting for the short man to return.  
  
He cursed under his breath, wishing they hadn't come, wishing he hadn't left the light on and the door open to the room where Joe lay. They had to have help, he decided. Biff and Chet could keep watch and he would go for back-up.  
  
Phil returned to where he had left Chet, pulling Biff along with him as he passed. He told them his plan, then took off.  
  
********************************************************************  
  
"They haven't returned," Mr. Hardy said, entering the kitchen at the manor. It was half an hour after sunrise and he had just been to the guest house to see if the trio had any luck and if they were ready to begin the day's search.  
  
"Do you think something's happened to them?" Frank asked in a slow, worried tone from his chair at the table. No one answered, for at that moment a loud bang was heard followed by running footsteps as Phil came rushing through the house shouting for Mr. Hardy.  
  
"Here!" Mr. Hardy answered the call, going to the door leading into the dining room and pushing it open.  
  
Phil came into the kitchen, breathing heavily, and told them about finding Joe and the four armed men who were at the cabin. He pulled the paper from his pocket and handed it to Dr. Duvalier, telling about the papers in the chest. "Maybe you can figure out what the papers are for while we rescue Joe," Phil ended.  
  
"Where is he?" Frank asked, relief in his brown eyes.  
  
"Not sure," Phil answered. "I'm pretty sure it's somewhere on the plantation next to this one. Not Jima's plantation, though. It was in a different direction." he ended.  
  
"There isn't another plantation around here," Dr. Duvalier said, looking at Phil thoughtfully. "This one meets the Demonet plantation at one side, the sea at another, and our other border belongs to the Haitian government." 


	20. Conclusion! Chapter 20

"Galen, call the authorities," Mr. Hardy ordered. "Ask to speak with Inspector Kuutin. He's the man I spoke with about what's happening around here. Show him that paper and tell him Joe's being held captive in a building on government property."  
  
"Uh, Mr. Hardy," Phil interuppted. "Joe's been given the poison tht makes you appear dead."  
  
"I'l call Dora," Dr. Duvalier said. "I thought this might happen at somepoint and asked her if she could bring back the dead."  
  
"The dead?" Frank asked. "Joe's not dead," he said slowly but with a world of feeling.  
  
"By way of the poison," Dr. Duvalier clarified. "She can. But you will need to take Joe to her."  
  
Mr. Hardy nodded. "Let's go," he said, leading Phil and Frank, whose stint as a zombie now showed no physical effects save the pale, undernourished look in his face. They took the truck as far as they dared, then pulled off the raod. Phil led them to where Chet and Biff were waiting.   
  
"Frank!" Chet cried out in surprise.  
  
"Shh!!" Biff ordered, his blue eyes stern.  
  
"Frank, are you sure you should be here?" Chet asked.  
  
"I feel fine," Frank replied with a faint smile. "And I'll feel even better once we get Joe back."  
  
"They haven't left," Biff said. "But tht short guy came back almost as soon as you left," he added to Phil.  
  
Mr. Hardy pulled out his gun. "You boys stay here," he ordered. "I'm going to go in for a closer look." He crept up to the house and peeredint he window. Looking in, he was pleasantly shocked to see Joe sitting at the table. His face was bruised but he was definitely alive.  
  
Mr. Hardy made his way back to the boys and told them Joe had apparently been given an antidote in Phil's absence. "Thank God," uttered Frank in relief, a sentiment echoed by all present.  
  
"What were they doing?" Frank asked his dad.  
  
"It looks like they are getting ready to leave," he admitted.  
  
"Did you recognize anyone in there?" Biff asked.  
  
Mr. Hardy shook his head. "I don't recall having seen any of those men."  
  
"I don't understand," Frank admitted, shaking his head. "None of this makes sense."  
  
"Actually, it kind of does," Phil said.  
  
"What?" Mr. Hardy demanded, looking at Phil.  
  
"Apparently, Frank saw two men talking who should have had no contact with each other," Phil began. "They were afraid Frank would report the meeting to the authorities, who, obviously don't know what is going on. Anyway, they took Frank out of the picture using the only item they had on them at that moment, the powder."  
  
"But it wasn't wither of the men I saw talking who did it," Frank informed them. "It was this short guy."  
  
"The Bokur," Chet said. "He is the short dude."  
  
"He's a fraud," Biff snorted.  
  
"Of course he is," Mr. Hardy admitted, his brow wrinkled in thought. "But he does have everyone fooled."  
  
"He is definitely no backwoods prophet," Chet said in disgust.  
  
"Isn't he?" Frank asked.  
  
"What do you mean, Son?" Mr. Hardy asked.  
  
"Well, he has all the natives believing he is some super magical being," Frank began. "But he is smart enough to know what might pose a danger and to have some type of physical evidence for what he is doing."  
  
"The papers," Phil said.  
  
"Right," Frank agreed. "I don't think we will know what is going on unless we can get our hands on those papers."  
  
"Frank," Chet said, looking at Frank a bit peculiarly. "Shouldn't Joe be our main concern?"  
  
"He is," Frank said, as fast as he could. "They must have revived him to use him as a hostage," he deduced.   
  
"You are leaving something out," Phil observed.  
  
"There must be someone involved from Jima's plantation that Joe recognized, or they wouldn't have taken Joe in the first place," Frank commented.  
  
"But they took you," Biff said, confused. "And you didn't recognize anyone."  
  
"They acted irrationally," Phil said, picking up on what Frank was trying to say. "They saw Frank and panicked. But after Frank was rescued, they realized the jig was about up. When Joe turned up, they probably figured Frank must have told about the meeting he witnessed."  
  
"So you're saying they think Joe knows all about what they are doing on government property," Chet said.  
  
"I think so," Phil answered.   
  
"If that's the case, why didn't they just kill him? Or at least, why bother to revive him?" Chet demanded.  
  
"Maybe they are planning on using him as a hostage," suggested Phil.  
  
"What about the other, um, zombies?" Chet asked. "Where are they?"  
  
Mr. Hardy frowned. "That's a very good question," he said in an unhappy tone. "If we rescue Joe now, we may not find the other victims."  
  
"We aren't going to let them take Joe away," Frank declared slowly, his brown eyes flashing.  
  
"Of course not," Mr Hardy quickly denied. He looked around. "I just wish Inspector Kuutin would hurry up and arrive."  
  
"You have a plan?" Phil asked.  
  
"Yes," admitted Mr. Hardy, but it is dangerous and I don't want you boys to be involved.  
  
"It doesn't look like we have a choice," Biff said, looking at the cabin and seeing the front door open.  
  
"Blast it!" growled Mr. Hardy. He looked at Frank. "Are you up for this?" he asked.  
  
Frank nodded, his eyes determined as he saw Joe being pushed through the door, a gun in his back. The left side of his face was swollen and bruised and his shirt had been ripped open in the front. It looked like someone had pulled him up by the front of his shirt and beat him. Frank wanted revenge more than he wanted anything, and not because of what had happened to himself.  
  
Mr. Hardy swallowed painfully before speaking. "You have to go and let them capture you," he said.  
  
"What?" Phil demanded.  
  
"No way!" argued Biff.  
  
"Crazy!" Chet ejactulated.  
  
"Why?" Phil asked, looking at Mr. Hardy intently. "What good will that do?"   
  
"Joe is in no condition to fight," Mr. Hardy stated, looking at his youngest son being hustled off into the woods. "Frank needs to be near enough to Joe to bring him down when the fighting starts."  
  
"That's all?" Frank demanded.  
  
"That's all," concurred Mr. Hardy. "I don't think you are well enough to fight either," he continued. "I want you both out of this."  
  
"Agreed," Phil said. "But we had better get moving before we lose them."  
  
"What about the other victims?" Biff asked.  
  
"We are going to follow them until they take us where they are going before we make our move," Mr. Hardy said. "But the sooner Frank..."  
  
"The sooner I get captured, the better the chance I'll have to be right beside Joe when the fun starts," Frank finished. "I'll get a bit ahead of them and let myself be caught," he added, moving away from his dad and friends.  
  
Joe, not realizing what was happening, saw Frank by the trail ahead of them. He started putting up a fuss, hoping Frank was lucid enough to get away. One of his captors rounded on Joe and hit him so hard, he fell backwards onto the hard ground below, unmoving.   
  
One of the other men saw Frank at about the same time as Joe hit the ground and aimed his weapon at Frank. Frank stood up and lifted his arms in the air. He waited until the man came and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down to Joe. When he was released, he leaned down and helped Joe to his feet.   
  
Frank realized Joe didn't know how he was. "It's okay, baby brother," Frank whispered in his slow gait.   
  
Joe looked at Frank through one eye, the other to messed up to see out of. Frank wasn't sure, but he would almost swear Joe smiled. The boys were hustled through the woods and back onto the Duvalier plantation. Once there, they were taken further back into the woods, away from the beach and away from the manor. After a good hour and a half, they stopped at a long buiding.   
  
Frank had seen this type of building before in history books. It was no more than slave's quarters. The natives of Haiti used to be slaves. This building was obvioulsy old, but it must have been well built to have survived the weather all these years. The two boys were taken inside. Frank shuddered when he saw the people sitting agains the wall, their eyes staring straight ahead although they saw nothing.   
  
Joe glanced over at Frank and was relieved to see he wasn't freaking out. He wondered where his dad and friends were. Had they been able to follow him and Frank? Although he had no clue as to what the plan was, he was positive he and Frank had not been abandoned.   
  
Milan came over to the group as they entered the building. "I'm sorry," he said to Joe and Frank. Frank, never having met the man, looked first at him and then at Joe.  
  
"Are your brothers in this too?" Joe asked thickly. His mouth swollen.  
  
"No," Milan quickly replied. "They would be ashamed. I just...I just wanted things to be easier," he said. "Running a plantation is hard. If we had more money, we could hire more workers, get more machinery to help. None of us would have to work seven days a week eighteen hours a day anymore."  
  
"Hire workers?" Frank asked, looking hard at him. "Don't you mean make more?"  
  
"No," Milan denied. "They never did any work on our plantation."  
  
"I saw them," Joe argued.  
  
"No," Milan corrected him. "You were at the boundary to government land, not our land, when you watched them."  
  
"What are you doing on government land?" Frank demanded.   
  
"Omar, the guy talking with the Bokur, found something one night while he was digging a grave," Milan informed them.  
  
"Digging a grave on government property?" Frank asked in disbelief. "I thought your culture had ceremonies to do before one could be buried properly."  
  
"Omar killed a man," Milan admitted. "A government official. He buried the man, then felt the Gods would be after him for doing such an evil and not giving the man a proper burial. He went back to retrieve the body. When he did, the body had decomposed. More so than it should have. Omar went to the Bokur. The Bokur then contacted one of the men with the governement. The two people you saw talking the day you became one of the undead, was Omar and that government official, Riptkin. The Bokur was watching the meeting and saw you arrive. He feared you might make trouble and so took your soul."  
  
"Uranium," Frank said, figuring out what was being mined by the zombies. "You use the zombies to dig it since they are basically dead already."  
  
"Yes," Milan admitted.   
  
"And the papers the Bokur has?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Papers?" Milan said, thoughtfully. "Must be the contract with the mercenaries who have agreed to purchase the uranium."  
  
"Since when do mercenaries have written contracts?" Joe snorted.  
  
"This is not America," Milan pointed out. "We are less strict with whom we do business and our laws are a bit different than yours."  
  
"Why didn't you just kill me?" Joe aksed. "I mean, you were using Frank, but not me. Why?"  
  
"The Bokur believed you would make an adequate hostage should our government find out about the uranium and try to take control of it. It is, after all, theirs since it is on government property," Milan answered.  
  
"What are you going to do with us now?" Frank asked.   
  
"You are to be used as hostages, as planned," Milan answered. "The Bokur has eyes everywhere. He knows you and your father have gotten to close to the operation. He knows you went to the authorities and has decided to close up shop and cut our losses."  
  
"What about these people?" Joe demanded.  
  
"They are dying anyway," Milan answererd. "Unlike your brother, they have been exposed to too much for too long."  
  
"You make me sick," Joe said, turning away from the young man.  
  
"How did you get involved?" Frank asked. "Omar came to me first," he admitted. "I did not know what he should do and so sent him to the Bokur. When the Bokur decided to set up shop, I had no choice. Either I become a partner or I become a zombie."  
  
"The authorities know what is going on," Frank said. "It's over. Nothing is going to help you now."  
  
"I know," Milan siad, looking down at his feet. "And now my family will know what I have done. But I will not shame them more," he added, his eyes hardening.  
  
"What..." Frank began but soon saw the answer to his unasked question. Milan pulled a small revolver from his waistband and turned in one fluid movement aimming it at the Bokur. As he pulled the trigger, Frank shoved Joe to the floor as one then two then three bullets rang out.   
  
Shots were heard from outside the building and within seconds several armed men entered the building. Fenton Hardy and the boys' friends followed close behind. The entire affair was over in minutes. The Bokur had been shot by Milan and lay dead. Milan, lay on the ground near Fank and Joe, two bullet entry wounds visible on his chest among the blood which was flowing freely.  
  
Frank lifted Milan's shoulders into his arms. "I...am sorry," he whispered. "Please tell my family," he added.   
  
Frank nodded. "We will," he whispered as Milan's head fell to one side.  
  
"Boys?" Mr. Hardy asked, rushing over to them.   
  
"Is he dead?" Chet asked, looking at Milan in disbelief. He was having a hard time believing it was him. Anthony or Kreg, but not Milan. He had seemed the friendliest of the brothers.  
  
"Yes," Frank said, lowering Milan back down to the ground. "Where did they come from?" he asked, indicating the many officers.  
  
"Inspector Kuutin and these men were waiting outside in the undergrowth when we arrived," Mr. Hardy said. "They knew of this place and assummed this was were they were holding their, uh, prisoners."  
  
"Then why didn't they look into this place before?" Biff demanded.  
  
"Because we thought Frank was being held on a private plantation," Mr. Hardy explained, watching as Frank stood up and helped Joe to his feet. "They had no reason to believe Frank or anyone else was being held here," he added as Frank and Joe gave each other a hug.  
  
"The antidote for the drug is in the flask attatched to the leather cord around his back," Joe said, as one of the Hiatian officials came over to the group.  
  
"I do not think it will them much good," said the Inspector.  
  
"Because of the radiation poisoning?" Frank asked.  
  
The man nodded. "Your father informed me you were a zombie," he continued. "This means you have been exposed."  
  
"Yes," Mr. Hardy said. "And the sooner we return to the states, the sooner Frank, and Joe," he added, taking in the appearance of his youngest son with a grimace of anguish, "can get medical treatment."  
  
"We do have facilities here," the Inspector stated.  
  
"I know," Mr. Hardy replied. "But I think my sons would feel much better if they were back home."  
  
"But the plane doesn't leave for a few days yet," Phil pointed out.  
  
"I called a friend of mine in Washington when Frank was found," Mr. Hardy said. "He has arranged special clearance between the United States and Hiati for a private flight back to the states. Jack should be at the airport waiting for us."  
  
"Let's go then," Frank said, pulling Joe with him toward the exit. "If I never come to Hiati again, it will still be too soon!"  
  
End 


End file.
